Legend
by Marie McKinnon
Summary: [complete] King Arthur's spirit has returned with those of Morgan Le Fay and Lancelot, but he's a wizard, destined to save England from a great evil. The three together can defeat Voldemort, but their romances and disagreements may weaken their unity.
1. Visions

Legend  
Chapter I: Visions  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
  
~His hand went out automatically. It was drawn to the beautiful pale skin and ran up the  
side of the leg, past the shorts, up the side, and along the clear line of the chin, which he held for  
a moment, hands trembling, before the fire burning in his skin became unbearable and he had to  
pull away. Being in contact with the person had burned and tingled, but it pained him to be  
separated. His silvery bangs fell into his eyes as he looked down, trying to collect his feelings.   
The face of the other person, the most appealing girl he'd ever seen, was blank. No facial  
features could tell him who it was. He wanted so much to hold her until he was consumed in fire  
that the extended limb trembled with his desire. Before his fingers brushed the surface of the  
visible perfection, it evanesced. Left alone, the hand remained outstretched for a second, then  
fell lifelessly to his side.  
  
"If I gave you the stars, what would you give me in return?" He heard himself ask the air,  
not expecting a reply.  
  
The answering voice resonated through him until he could feel the timbres of it. "I think  
you know what I can promise you--sensations you are only dimly aware of--ecstasy, mounting,  
growing, swelling, bursting, endless and no satiety, no end until you know the crucifixion of  
love, and scream for the cross, and help to drive the nails while every nerve, every white writhing  
nerve, joins the demonic and whips itself to a rage of exulting and raging passion. You lick your  
lips. You think you know. What you know is only a whisper beside the pandemonium I promise  
you."  
  
All of the hairs on the back of Draco's neck were up. He shivered at the deep  
reverberations of the voice, the yearning it woke in him, and how he longed to meet the owner of  
that voice. If only the owner of the voice and the owner of the perfect body were the same, and  
had a face the like to rival a goddess... He trembled at the idea.~  
  
Draco shot up in bed, writhing at the desire he felt coursing through his veins. He wanted  
her. He had to have her. No matter what it took, he would find her and make her his.   
  
Another feeling raced with his blood. It was alien, but tingled with the air of magic. He  
knew it was more important than the girl, but his every thought was for her and what the brush of  
her skin against his would be like. Or better, what her lips would taste like, and how he would  
react to her heat crushed against him. He looked at his hand, remembering the slow manner in  
which it had traced her outline, and smothered a yelp. It was glowing with a silvery sheen he'd  
never before noticed. As he watched, the light receded into his skin, then vanished, as though it  
had become part of him.   
  
Hours later he fell asleep, still pondering over where the words had come from and what  
the strange glow had been. Of one thing he was certain, and that was that the reply to his  
question had not been instantaneously created. Once he found someone who knew those words,  
he could easily snare his prize.   
  
  
Disclaimer: I completely disclaim this. I can't stop rereading and writing this story, but  
don't want it. Okay, so I do want it, but don't yell at me. It gets better, I promise. This was a  
short one, but the next is longer. For that matter, the next chapter contains: a run in in the  
Gryffindor common room and a fiery redhead showing exactly what power means. 


	2. Conflict

Legend  
Chapter II: Conflict  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Draped in a chair in the common room with a blazing fire flickering in front of her, Ginny  
read a Muggle Studies textbook. Hermione and Ron bickered at a table nearby. Harry was  
nowhere to be seen. She couldn't be surprised; it was the first evening of school, and he was a  
Prefect. Then again, so was Hermione, but Harry was, well, Harry, and probably had to discuss  
defense tactics with Professor Dumbledore. Stretching and standing up, Ginny could find no  
understandable reason for why all the boys were staring at her. Okay, so she was wearing  
Muggle clothes, but so were a dozen other people. It was only a sleeveless shirt and a pair of  
shorts, after all.   
  
Harry clambered in at that instant and joined the staring fest. Ginny had grown up a lot  
over the summer. He hadn't noticed at all, but he did then. She was lots taller, slender, curvy,  
and had the most amazing pair of legs he'd ever seen. Russet curls dangled from a high ponytail.   
While she stretched the hem of her shirt went up a few inches, causing the common room-wide  
staring contest. If anyone got Ginny, he wanted it to be him, so he walked up and put an arm  
around her slim waist. She turned, shocked, and met the emerald eyes boring into hers.   
  
"Harry," she said, in her most dangerous tone of voice, "I know I'm your best friend's  
sister, but that does not give you any right to grab me. If you would be so kind as to let me go..."   
He didn't, just pulled her a little closer and planted a kiss on her forehead.   
  
"It's not because you're Ron's sister. It's because you're enchanting," he whispered, a  
smile finding its way onto his face.   
  
"Did I not make myself clear? Hands off, Potter, or you'll regret it."  
  
He chuckled, still holding her around the waist. "Playing hard to get, are we? It usually  
works. I'm now more determined to have you, so be content. I find it hard to believe that your  
crush on me has vanished."  
  
Now furious, Ginny took hold of the hands on her waist and flipped Harry over onto his  
back. "Start believing," she hissed as she stepped delicately over his fallen body, grabbed her  
book, and headed up to her dorm. "You might want to have a talk with your friend," she  
suggested to Ron.   
  
"Why? Where is he?" Her brother demanded, looking around.  
  
A slow smile lit Ginny's face. "Somewhere over there. Just reinforce what I said, okay?"  
  
"What did you say?" Ron yelled after her retreating back.  
  
"That just because he's your best friend doesn't mean that I'm all his."  
  
Even as she walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitories could she hear Ron's bellow.   
  
"WHAT THE H***'RE YOU DOING ON THE FLOOR?"  
  
"Ask your sister," he growled, getting up gingerly.  
  
"I've a better answer," Hermione said. "I can get the memory of what happened from his  
head. That won't lie."  
  
"I didn't do anything!" Harry insisted seconds before the spell was cast. He reddened.   
The entire scene played out in Ron and Hermione's heads from his point of view; even his  
thoughts as he'd held their conversation were included. Ron turned purple very quickly as he  
viewed the actions his best friend had made towards his little sister. Hermione winced as she  
saw him hit the ground.  
  
"You were going to snog my sister?" He voiced the question that had been on top of his  
mind since the beginning in an incredulous whisper.  
  
"Ummm..." If possible, he became a darker shade of scarlet than he'd been previously.  
  
"YOU WERE GOING TO SNOG MY SISTER?!?!"   
  
Ron yelled so loudly that the whole common room looked up at them. Seventh years  
snickered amongst themselves, as did some of the fifth years. Dean Thomas and Seamus  
Finnigan raised their eyebrows at Harry. A few of Ginny's friends slipped out of the room and  
up to see her while her over-protective brother continued his rant.  
  
"I'M D*** GLAD SHE FLIPPED YOU! DON'T YOU *DARE* GO NEAR HER  
AGAIN!"  
  
"I won't, okay? I just lost my head a little. It won't happen again."  
  
"It better not, or you'll hear about it."  
  
*  
  
"Ginny! GINNY!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Ingrid dashed inside, panting. "What was Ron yelling about? He was really mad at  
Harry, and he kept mentioning his sister."  
  
"I think his exact words were 'you were going to snog my sister?!' but a lot louder,"   
Frances corrected from behind. "Explanation, please?"  
  
"What's to tell? He grabbed me, kissed me on the forehead, and when I told him to get  
off, he wouldn't. He thought I was playing hard to get because I'd had a crush on him for so  
long. I got mad and flipped him. I hope it hurts."  
  
"Lesson One: Never mess with Ginny," Ingrid laughed.   
  
"I don't get it. How did they know he wanted to--you know? I don't think he'd tell them  
straight out, would he?"  
  
"Hermione was telling me about a spell she knows that lets you see someone's memory  
of an event, complete with their thoughts. I guess that thought dominated the encounter. Could  
you leave, please? I want to read this book." Ginny gestured to The Acts of King Arthur and  
His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck.  
  
"Okay, sure. Let's go see if everything's calmed down in the common room."  
  
"Give Harry a kick for me, okay? Just to make sure the idea sticks."   
  
Disclaimer: Same as the last one. I disclaim this. None of the characters belong to me.   
The English language doesn't belong to me (I wish it did. Every time someone spoke English  
I'd get a big fat paycheck), the Arthurian legend isn't mine, blah blah blah blah. Next chapter:  
Dean and Seamus try to make Harry feel better about Ginny, but don't exactly do what they were  
aiming for. 


	3. Whoa

Legend  
Chapter III: Whoa  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
"We don't blame you, Harry," Seamus grinned, speaking for Dean as well. They'd left  
the common room for the safety of their dormitory while Hermione attempted to soothe Ron's  
ruffled temper. "Did you see her while she was stretching? Cor, I think the bottom of her shirt  
went up three inches."  
  
"It wasn't that. Okay, so that was part of it, but I haven't seen her all summer."  
  
"What d'you mean, you haven't seen her all summer? You were at Ron's the whole time,  
weren't you?"  
  
He sighed. "I mean, yeah, I was, but I didn't pay any attention to her. Then I walked in  
and she was standing in front of the fireplace with her hair looking like a flame and that pale,  
smooth skin, and her shirt creeping upwards..."  
  
"Those big brown eyes, and that great smile, and the way she has of moving her hips as  
she walks..."  
  
"And that flat stomach and not-so-flat chest, and her *legs*-- God, you're a lucky  
b******, Harry," Dean finished, envisioning the redhead from the waist downwards.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, she's your girlfriend, isn't she?"  
  
Harry laughed aloud. "Ron would murder me. He very nearly did just now, and I didn't  
even kiss her on the lips. He'd never let me get near her, much less near enough to do what I was  
thinking of doing."  
  
"Better you than, say, Malfoy, though," Seamus grimaced.  
  
"If Malfoy even looked at her he'd be dead in two seconds." Harry glared, as though his  
arch-rival were there next to him. "She flipped me onto my back, and I'm her brother's best  
friend. I'd hate to see what she'd do to him. Scratch that. I'd love to see what she'd do to him."  
  
"You'll be able to find out."  
  
"How?"  
  
"You know that new fitness thing we've got to do? I heard her grumbling about being  
the only Gryffindor in Malfoy's class. She did some Red Cross thing over the summer and was  
bumped up, but the only place was in the Slytherin class."  
  
"Don't we have to wear uniforms for that?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah, black shorts and a white t-shirt. Trousers and a jumper when it gets colder,  
though," Seamus said. "Why?"  
  
"Add them up. Ginny. Short shorts. Little t-shirt. Malfoy. His attitude. His ability to  
see. His looks. Well, I can't account for the last one, but Parvati and Lavender always seem to  
be giggling about him. He'll be all over her."  
  
Harry swore vehemently. "If he lays a hand on her, even a fingertip, I swear he'll wish  
he'd never been born. If he even *looks* at her I'll kill the little b******."  
  
"A bit possessive, are we?"  
  
"By rights she should be mine," he snarled. "She had a crush on me for years, and then  
the year she comes back really hot she won't look at me. This isn't justice!"  
  
Dean looked oddly at his roommate, trying to fathom the vicious, aggressive change that  
had come over the usually-mild Boy Who Lived. "Put it down a notch, would you? We're not  
challenging you. If you're going to shout at anyone, shout at her. Or just grab her and snog her  
into the ground. Whichever works for you."  
  
"Sorry. It's just the picture of Malfoy and Ginny doing-- well-- what I'd give anything to  
do with her. And I didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
"Who did? It was the first night after classes. I was up for four hours finishing that  
Potions assignment. Snape. He'll be the first to die if the students rebel." Seamus made a face.  
  
Harry shook his head. He had been up late, but it was because of his nightmares. The  
blinding flash of brilliant green light-- the piercing shriek-- and at the very end, a voice urging  
him to reclaim his sword. Trying to shake the images from his mind, Harry had leapt upwards at  
the sight of a glow on his skin that receded and became part of him. He felt different, as though  
someone else were part of him. The strange attraction to Ginny was part of the new identity. He  
wouldn't have acted so confident towards her if he'd really felt himself. She seemed to have  
been seducing him without even trying. Her beauty was unquestionable, and he was sure he  
would have been drawn to her anyway, but never would he have attempted to hold her in the way  
he'd done. He couldn't explain. Maybe the sword and the silvery glow could explain it for him.  
  
  
Disclaimer: For anyone who worries about my not finishing this fast enough, I have  
written chapter ten already, and that's nowhere close to being the end. I want to have an excess  
of chapters ready. I'll probably post once a week or something like that. Oh, this is a disclaimer,  
isn't it? I don't own Harry, Hermione, and so on. Only the way they say things. I've changed  
some personalities, but it's usually as a result of something that happened, like Harry changing  
because of the glow. That's generally it.  
  
This doesn't seem to have anything to do with the Arthurian legend, but it will, I promise.   
I haven't done this in a while, so ahem. REVIEW OR I'LL DELETE ALL THE CHAPTERS I  
HAVE SAVED UP! Thanks. 


	4. Fitness

Legend  
Chapter IV: Fitness  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Ginny shrugged into her fitness uniform as quickly as possible so she could escape the  
glare of Pansy Parkinson. Frances' clothes must've been much too small for her, she thought,  
self-consciously pulling the shorts down to cover more of her thighs. Oh well. Let 'em stare.   
She rubbed her eyes tiredly, trying to make sense of her night. Of all things, a nightmare about a  
stone. For all it was worth, it had been an opal, but it was still just a stone. Then she'd woken up  
and had been-- there was no other word for it --glowing. A silvery sheen had played over her  
skin, then sunk into her blood. She felt it tingle for a few seconds, wondering why it gave her a  
sense of immeasurable power, and sat up for half an hour staring at her hands. The opal burned  
in her mind. It was connected to the glow and her power somehow. That was for advanced  
mages to worry about. She just had to get through fitness.  
  
Gin stepped out of the locker room feigning confidence. Whatever happened, she would  
*not* let Malfoy--or any other Slytherin-- embarrass her. Head held erect, she strode across the  
field to wait on the track while the teacher and other students caught up. She wasn't one to waste  
time, so she began to stretch. The previous night's fury had tightened her muscles, which wasn't  
the best thing if she were going to show everyone what was what. As she bent to touch her toes,  
she felt a pair of eyes on her back. She spun rapidly, meeting the gaze of none other than Draco  
Malfoy. Now that she was facing him, his eyes roved from hers to her feet, making her redden.   
She tossed her head, allowing a cascade of fiery curls to be flung into the warm September air.   
Still flustered and attempting to maintain a cool appearance, she stalked away.  
  
"D***," he whispered to himself in appreciation of the newly transformed youngest  
Weasely. His eyes had taken in every line and curve of her figure and liked what they'd seen.   
The face wasn't bad either, he found. Mahogany eyes framed by long lashes perched above a  
perfect, straight nose and a full mouth with lips the color of rose petals. Then there was the rest  
of her. Very slim, well proportioned, flat stomach, nice curves, and those *legs*-- he knew he  
was still staring but couldn't stop.  
  
"No wonder Potter wants her," a voice said by his ear. It was Thomas Nott, another sixth  
year Slytherin who became Malfoy's saviour in terms of intelligent conversation. Crabbe and  
Goyle were all very well when it came to protection, but their conversational skills were  
nonexistent.  
  
He tore his gaze away from the small Gryffindor to splutter "WHAT?!" Had it been  
anyone other than Ginny, he would have been taken aback at the use of the word 'wants' instead  
of 'fancies,' but it made more sense to say 'Potter wants her' than ' Potter fancies her' for some  
reason.   
  
"They had a run-in last night. Caused a row in the Gryffindor common room, I think."  
  
"And?"  
  
Thomas shrugged. "He tried to snog her, but she flipped him onto his back."  
  
"I thought she fancied him," Draco said, looking once more at Ginny and trying to  
fathom that the petite, delicate sprite had been able to flip a determined teenage boy who was  
twice her size.  
  
"Apparently not." A grim smile played around the edges of his mouth. "I've heard her  
brother is rather upset as well." This fact didn't register with Draco, who was still gazing raptly  
at her. "You've a chance, for all it's worth."  
  
"A chance at what?"  
  
"At her. If she won't have Potter, she might very well have you."  
  
His silvery eyes looked Ginny over again. "I can't believe this. She's drop-dead  
gorgeous." A predatory look passed over his face. "And she'll be mine."  
  
"You might want to initiate them, then."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle had noticed the stranger in their midst and were circling their 'prey'  
like vultures. White-blond hair flying, the crusader dashed over to rescue his beautiful damsel in  
distress. He snaked an arm around her tiny waist and pulled her away from the scavengers. It  
took all of his control not to do as he'd done in his dream and run his fingers up the side of one  
of her perfect, perfect legs to learn what she felt like. She's not the dream girl, he told himself.   
Too naive. She'd never have the confidence to even consider saying what the dream-person said.   
Well, she'll do for now. Her slim fingers twined with his, but not in a gentle manner. Using  
every ounce of her strength, Ginny pried the elegantly long digits off of her waist. Even  
afterwards she shivered where he'd touched her.  
  
"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," she suggested lightly.  
  
His fingers tingled where she'd touched them. "Or what? You'll flip me like you did  
Potter?"  
  
"I might," she said with a slow wolf's smile that showed pearly white teeth. "I just  
might."  
  
*  
  
"Mr. Malfoy." A crisp voice cut through the air. "As you seem so eager to compete with  
Miss Weasley, why don't you two be volunteers for our first exercise? In a series of athletic  
events we're going to determine which of you is in better shape." A malevolent look came into  
his eyes. He was tall and lean, very fit, with strong features and a well muscled body. There was  
no question who was more athletic. He would win hands down. Easy and graceful for all his  
power, Draco walked confidently to the starting point. "You'll begin with those hurdles," the  
professor added, "then continue to the balance beam. You must break contact at least once while  
on the beam or you'll be required to begin again. Finish by climbing to the top of that rope.   
Go!"  
  
Almost before he'd moved Ginny was over the first hurdle. She leapt like a deer and was  
loping forwards the very milisecond her first foot hit the ground. Not to be outdone, he sprinted  
forwards and immediately tumbled to the ground. Determination not to let a young Gryffindor  
prove him inadequate brought him up like a shot. He'd almost caught up when his adversary  
reached the balance beam. The grace she'd shown while running hadn't vanished with the added  
height. He watched, captivated, as she practically danced across the three-inch wide beam, took  
her mandatory leap with a split, and cartwheeled off.   
  
Red curls, whipped by the wind, streamed out behind her as she took stride after relaxed  
stride towards the climbing rope, which she scaled with ease. A triumphant grin flashed in  
Malfoy's direction as Professor Finmore dashed over with congratulations.  
  
"Brava! Brava! That was lovely! Thirty points to Slytherin!"  
  
"Excuse me, Professor?" Ginny spat. "I'm a Gryffindor!"  
  
"I beg your pardon. I had no idea. Thirty points to Gryffindor, then. Mr. Malfoy, I  
suggest you study with Miss Weasley from now on, at least for this class. You don't object to  
sharing your fitness expertise with Malfoy in private, do you, Weasley?"  
  
Laughing eyes bore into hers as she replied with gritted teeth "Oh no, not at all,  
Professor."  
  
*  
  
Harry walked past the Slytherin table at dinner and was unnerved to see that his arch-nemesis's intense stare was focused on Ginny's red-gold hair and slender waist.  
  
Aggression surged over him. "Don't even think about it," he hissed to Malfoy. "She's  
*mine*."  
  
"Prove it," Malfoy returned angrily.  
  
He slid into an empty seat next to Ginny and put a strong, muscled arm around her waist.   
She stiffened visibly.  
  
"Play along," he muttered as he nuzzled her ear. "I need to prove something to Malfoy."   
  
"What're you proving?" She asked furiously, clenching her hands into fists to prevent  
from punching him while he kissed her neck repeatedly.  
  
Draco's blood boiled. He didn't have anything to do with her, but the sight of Potter  
kissing her neck and being so blessed close to her made him unbelievably angry. For God's  
sake, Potter was holding her above the hips and not moving his mouth from where it had first  
landed on the beautiful curve of her slender neck. All his muscles were taut; he could feel his  
jaw clench.  
  
"That you're mine," Harry replied in a husky whisper, pulling her into a standing position  
and running his frantic lips over the line of her chin. He could feel her back become tense and  
the muscles tighten. Relax, he told her in his head, just let me relax you...  
  
He took a risk and brushed his mouth over hers lightly, coming away from the soft skin  
reluctantly. It drew him back for a deep, forceful kiss, but instead of touching her sweet, sweet  
lips, he hit something else...  
  
POW  
  
...her fist. A trickle of blood meandered down his chin as Ginny towered above his fallen  
form, eyes blazing with a fire brighter than that of her hair.  
  
"I'm yours, am I? Well, you're *dead* if you try that one more time, Potter."  
  
A voice barely keeping very tight control of its disapproval spoke from behind her.   
"Miss Weasley," McGonagall said. "Whatever prompted you to hit Potter? I imagine you're  
quite close."  
  
"That," Ginny replied coolly, "was entirely the problem. Unfortunately, he seems to be  
unable to understand that I would rather anyone else in his year grab me around the waist and do  
what he did than he himself."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"I imagine he's quite capable of telling you that. I mean no disrespect, Professor, but I  
hope he learns that I do not want to be played with." With that, she turned on her heel and  
marched out of the room, feeling the laughing eyes of Draco Malfoy all the way out.   
  
Disclaimer: Hahaha! Now she's got Malfoy on her tail. Not mine at all, okay? Coming  
soon: their first private practise. What's he going to do to her? Find out next time, but if you  
don't review there won't be a next time! 


	5. Dare

Legend  
Chapter V: Dare  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
"Where've you been, Harry?" Ron and Hermione chorused later. They hadn't been  
present in the Great Hall when he'd left, and had worried about him for quite some time before  
he popped through the portrait hole.  
  
He blushed and touched the place on his lip where Madam Pomfrey had applied a salve to  
stop the bleeding and healed it with a touch of her wand. "I had to go to the Hospital Wing.   
Someone punched me in the mouth and I wanted to stop the bleeding."  
  
"Who dared to punch you? If it was Malfoy, I'll curse his brains out."  
  
"Actually," here the red deepened "it wasn't Malfoy. Erm-- Ginny was the one who  
punched me."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I wonder just exactly what you could've done to make  
such a mild-mannered person as Ginny punch you in the mouth. Don't you, Ron?" Her tone of  
voice made it all too clear that she had a very good idea of what Harry had done to Ginny.  
  
He quickly changed his story. "Don't be silly. You two would believe me if I said it was  
Malfoy, wouldn't you?"  
  
"You didn't," Ron said hoarsely. "You didn't dare. But you did, didn't you? You--Ginny--again--how far did it go before she hit you?"  
  
"I was in the Great Hall, Ron! Anyone will tell you!"  
  
At that moment Dean entered and suppressed a chuckle as he saw Harry. "Buddy," he  
said in a paternal tone, "I wouldn't do that again. She'll hurt you badly soon. Give it a rest, all  
right?"  
  
"'Anyone will tell us,'" Hermione said. "I believe our suspicions have just been  
verified."  
  
"Thanks ever so, Dean!" He shouted in frustration.  
  
"Answer my question." Ron's tone was dangerous. "How far did it go before she hit  
you?"  
  
"I had to! Malfoy was ogling her, and I had to make it look like she was spoken for!"  
  
"ANSWER THE QUESTION! DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT SNOG MY SISTER?"  
  
"I didn't! I swear it!"  
  
"Dean," Hermione called, "could you please come over here for a second? We need  
some clarification about what happened in the Great Hall between Harry and Ginny, and he's not  
helping."  
  
"Sure. I think he had a bit of an arugument with Malfoy, probably because the dirty  
Slytherin wouldn't stop looking at Gin, so he sat next to her and put his arm around her waist. He  
lipped her ear, kissed her neck, chin, and so on, gave her a really light kiss on the lips, and was  
about to start snogging her when she punched him."  
  
"How do you know all this?" Hermione asked delicately, one eyebrow cocked.  
  
It was Dean's turn to blush. "I was--erm--you know--"  
  
"Ogling Ginny?" She suggested. He nodded and dashed off before Ron's protective  
wrath spread to him.  
  
Unfortunately for Harry, Ron just stared at him in disbelief. "How dare you? How  
could you, knowing I expressly asked you to stay away from her? And yet you dared to try your  
luck again, dared to push yourself on my sister. I don't believe you. You dared--"  
  
"Yes, I bloody well dared!" Harry shouted, allowing his rage to boil over in an outburst  
that left the others in the common room shocked. "Get over it! She's perfectly capable of  
holding her own, as she's proved twice now! Have you not looked at her? Not realized that  
more than half the boys in this school are aching to have the courage to do what I did? She's  
gorgeous, Ron, and amazingly mature! I want her, Dean wants her, Seamus wants her, even  
Malfoy wants her! You can't protect her forever. Eventually someone's going to be rougher  
than I was and not let her loose enough to get a fist in before they've had their way with her. In a  
group of people ranging between me and Malfoy, isn't it better that I'm the one who finally wins  
her over?"  
  
"No." Ron's voice shook with fury. "Even Malfoy hasn't tried to take advantage of her,  
but you know who has? My best friend. I think if you keep pushing her she'll choose even  
Malfoy over you, and I won't blame her! I hate the b******, but he can have her as long as he  
doesn't try anything like you've tried. Don't object," he added, seeing the murderous look on  
Harry's face that rivaled his own. "Don't you dare."  
  
Disclaimer: I like that ending, don't you? If any of this belonged to me, I'd have better  
things to do than sit around fantasizing. I'd be writing the real books and wouldn't have any  
time for fanfiction. Therefore, it isn't mine. Coming up: Malfoy's first fitness practise session  
thing. REVIEW OR I'LL STOP AFTER 15 CHAPTERS! 


	6. Practise

Legend  
Chapter VI: Practise  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
"Before I start to help you," Ginny said coolly, "I'd like to clarify a few things. You  
remember a few weeks ago when I believe you said something to Potter and he attempted to--ahem, and I bloodied his lip?"  
  
"I remember." Draco looked her right in the eyes, recollecting the incident with pleasure.   
What his worst enemy had done still angered him, but the look on Potter's face when she'd  
punched him had been worth the fury. His subconscious dwelled on something of the same  
subject, marvelling at her beauty and hoping with every fibre of his being that he would have a  
chance to touch her skin during the lesson.  
  
"Good. You also remember what he was doing to me?"  
  
Darkness passed over his features. "Yes," he growled. Potter nuzzling and kissing the  
angel standing in front of him was too much to bear, especially because he wished it had been the  
other way around, that he could have kissed her neck, then her chin, and put his lips, feather-light, over hers while holding her tightly.   
  
"Then I'm sure you will understand that my reaction will be only slightly less severe if  
you attempt the same thing. Less severe because he'd done the same sort of thing before and I  
had already warned him. It just might not draw blood. Understood?"  
  
He nodded in agreement, though he had no notion of keeping away from her. She was  
just so blessed gorgeous that he didn't think he'd be able to stop himself from touching her even  
if she were in America.  
  
"All right. Professor Finmore asked me to coach you in fitness, but I think self-defense is  
more important. Well, it is for me, at any rate." She smiled to herself and remembered the many  
recent incidents where her honour had been saved by a well-aimed punch or kick. "I think I'll  
just throw you around for a bit, then, shall I?"  
  
"I doubt you can," he said. "You're how much smaller than I am? And I can be very  
determined." He grinned and raised his eyebrows at the double entendre this presented.  
  
"I'm sure. I'd like you to remember that I did throw Harry, who's your size, if not a bit  
taller. Just for the sake of proving I can, you can try not to go flying." She beckoned him  
forwards so he could put his arms around her waist. Being very cheeky, he put his hands  
somewhat south of that. "My waist, not my a**, Malfoy," she said. He made that adjustment  
reluctantly, dragging his fingers along her hips and pulling her very close. They just stood that  
way for a moment or so. Draco savored the burning he felt all over his front from where he  
pulled her in more tightly and the shivers spreading up and down his spine from the possibilities.   
He could bury his face in her tawny hair and forget about the rest of the world, move the silky  
mass aside and kiss that elegant neck for eternity, trace her outline with a scorching finger,  
seduce her in some way that would be purely physical, drawl out compliments and pray that his  
confidence in himself would attract her attention, or, lastly, the one he was fighting himself most  
about, whip her around and claim her lips as his own. Still contemplating the best action to take,  
he suddenly found himself combatting a reversal of ground and sky and then the ground itself.  
  
"Ouch," he said breathlessly.   
  
"As you can see, I'm quite capable of flipping you over." Ginny extended a hand to pull  
him up and ordered "Up. Now." He grabbed her hand and found himself flying again. The  
wind whistled in his ears as he neared the grassy turf again.  
  
THUD  
  
"Just thought I'd reimburse you for that supposedly 'oh so irresistable' game you were  
playing with me. Next time you feel the urge to touch me like that, I suggest you either tell me  
so or bury it. Correction. Either bury it or leave."  
  
Then I'd never be able come back, he thought. I'd have to keep leaving. Draco snapped  
back to rapt attention as she explained how to throw someone. When it came to practise, he  
made many mistakes. The first time he tried he didn't get enough leverage and fell over while  
his coach still stood. Next he made the fatal mistake of falling down while he ducked so she  
could pass over his head without danger of a concussion. He needn't have worried, as she didn't  
even get off the ground.  
  
"Last time. Don't forget to shove with all your strength and push up and back. Then  
duck."  
  
He stepped into her hold with pleasure. Everything went well until the final step-- the  
release. She landed on her back, with ( as must always happen in this type of story) him on top  
of her. White-blond bangs tickled her forehead and the force of his landing knocked her breath  
away. She shivered as she realized that she was completely trapped under his weight. He  
grinned. Just like him, she thought furiously. Make that sort of mistake and then smile about it.  
  
What she said aloud was slightly different. "I think you forgot the release. That *will*  
help if you don't want to be in the same position as your attacker."   
  
His eyes danced. This was exactly the sort of predicament he'd been hoping for. He was  
much heavier than she was, and, here his heart soared, he was *on top of her*! Now he could put  
his plans into use. It didn't work.  
  
"Would you believe me if I said I made that mistake just because I knew I'd end up on  
top of you?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "I wouldn't doubt it for a moment." Ginny prepared to push him off,  
but when she tilted her head back and looked up at his face, she couldn't continue. His metallic  
eyes and strong features captivated her. She'd just noticed his face, with its chiseled features and  
rakish bangs falling over his forehead. It was so powerful, so unafraid of anything she could do  
in retaliation, that hitting him wouldn't have the same vindictive pleasure that it usually did. His  
mouth was slack, poised, and she found herself waiting for its forceful impact on her own. It  
never came, and she tried to pull her focus away from his eyes. She couldn't, but she'd seen the  
rest of him, mostly because it had seemed permanently imprinted on her back for the few  
moments she'd taken to gain suspense for the throw.   
  
His plans stopped as he took a good look at her face. She looked anything but frightened;  
her features were soft and relaxed, as though she was preparing to rest or go to sleep. Ruddiness  
from the exercise tinged her cheeks pale pink, the same delicate shade as her lips. They were  
half open, and the more lusty part of him yearned to slip his tongue in between them for a long,  
passionate kiss. But he didn't. Instead, he looked into the clear, brown eyes gazing into his.   
Depth, that was what they had that made her look so special and intelligent. Her lengthy black  
eyelashes flickered to show that she was still there. Had he been able to look farther than her  
eyes, he would have seen her breathing hard. Either that or he would have noticed the tumble of  
blazing curls against the green grass.  
  
After a few moments he relented and stood up. A hand stretched out as an offering to  
pull her up. He thought for a second that she might actually accept his help, but the grace she'd  
demonstrated in the beginning of the year hadn't vanished. Instead of standing, she unfolded in a  
manner so easy and relaxed that it put his poise and composure to shame.  
  
"Don't forget to practise," she said, catching her breath. Before he could reply she ran off  
to the stairs, leaving Draco staring, mouth open, at the swishing red ponytail and retreating back.  
  
Disclaimer: Hee hee hee. Malfoy has fallen, but will she catch him? I'd hate to be  
around to hear the impact if she didn't. Anyway, not mine, J.K's. Next: Ginny's got loads of  
questions, and is so overwhelmed she falls asleep. No, BloodRedInk, not with anyone, but  
Draco or Harry's hormones could get out of hand later in the story. I use the term 'later' very  
loosely, as I'm writing the 14th chapter now and she's not dating anyone. 


	7. Questions

Legend  
Chapter VII: Questions  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
By the beginning of December Ginny had learned not to linger in the common room. It  
never accomplished anything except to gain a lot of attention, which she didn't want. Spending  
time in the common room also almost invited Harry to come over and try something. What his  
end goal was she didn't want to know, but she was sure it involved a lot of snogging. She  
studied or read in her bedroom, talked to her friends when they came in, or sketched in her  
magical sketchbook. Her last few drawings had been of opals and, strangely, a knight with  
silvery eyes and white-blond hair.   
  
Ginny knew the knight was Draco. It had to be, but why in Merlin's name would she  
draw him, much less him as a knight? Was that how she pictured him? Yeah, right. What kind  
of a knight could get thrown by a damsel half his size? Not a very good one. He was so  
confident in his talent that it must have hurt him to be coached by someone younger. Her image  
of the knight was that he seemed very much in demand, but always ready with time to spare.   
Kind of like Malfoy again. He was well known and good at all the things he did. His schedule  
would have been a nightmare, but he did it with unbelievable style and flare. The knight was the  
perfect weapon for a battle or a social occasion because of his wit and power. Wit and power  
were definitely Malfoy qualities.   
  
That explained her mental image of the best knight as her student, but what had that  
been, so long ago, when he'd landed on top of her? Had it been Harry, he wouldn't have wasted  
a moment in his endeavours. She knew he wanted the same thing Harry did, but was smart  
enough to show it differently, which honestly confused her. He could have done more than the  
things the Gryffindor had done, and wanted to do them, but he didn't. He held back. Why?   
What motive did he have for keeping her guessing? Would he try to win her mind before taking  
her body?   
  
She had so many questions that she just scribbled them out in sketch form. There were a  
lot of Harrys, most of them holding her around the waist or kissing her neck while she looked  
murderous. Why? Why does he want me? She asked herself repeatedly, analyzing herself for  
any clue. These searches always came to the same conclusion: she was pretty, confident, and  
independent (she also had the fiery redhead thing in her favour, but she liked to think of that as  
something no one noticed). Were Harry and Draco having a power struggle in which she was the  
prize? Harry was so dominant, so in charge, that he didn't need her for anything but to help his  
image. Like a king didn't need his queen for anything but show, he would have her, a trophy on  
his arm and in his bedroom, for personal pleasure and superiority. Is it his dominance that makes  
him want to have me? Her mind asked. Or is it purely physical attraction? The second seemed  
more plausible, because she had been on the verge of asking him if he had a wand in his pocket  
or if he was just happy to see her on many occasions. Her head spun, and she fell asleep with  
exhaustion.  
  
~ A colour drawing practically leapt out of the page. It showed a threesome, all  
confident, all powerful. In the centre was an enchantress in floor-length black robes blown  
forward in a wind. Slim, elegant, absolutely gorgeous, she looked slightly downward as a smug  
smile played around the edges of her mouth. Dark eyes looked up and forwards with as much  
assurance in their influence as the smile. Blown by the same wind as the skirt, long, red curls  
streamed in front of the face but didn't obscure it. An opal glowed at her throat, shimmering  
with irridescent power that added to her display of appeal and apparent skill.   
  
At the enchantress's right was a relaxed, graceful nobleman or knight with his arms  
folded and his head tilted downwards. His back faced her side but maintained a suitable  
distance, apparently because her confidence and independence didn't have any use for a  
nobleman knight. He was powerfully built but lean and tall, not bulky. It was obvious that his  
poise did not only apply to standing or walking; one could easily imagine that same self-assurance in a duel or battle. White-blond bangs hung in his eyes, giving him a devil-may-care  
attitude to add to his confidence.   
  
On the left of the enchantress was a king. A circlet on his head and naked sword in his  
hand, he also was sideways. Dominance was evident in his upright stature and clear, confident  
gaze. His messy black hair was contained by the gold circlet. He was sure of his power and his  
ability to deal with anyone that came along using either diplomacy or his sword.  
  
The enchantress, still smiling smugly, gave Ginny this message. "If this is what you  
want, work for it. You know how."~   
  
Ginny turned over in her sleep, fingers curled around the imaginary opal hanging around  
her neck.  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, that was short and cliched, but it gave a hint. I like hints. J.K.  
Rowling owns all of the characters, not what I'm forcing them to do. If she knew what I have in  
mind, she would come and snap my fingers off to prevent me from ever typing again. WHICH  
IS WHAT I'LL DO TO YOU IF YOU DON'T REVIEW! Thank you. Next chapter: Draco  
thinks (for the first time)! About what, I wonder? Well, you wonder, because I already know! 


	8. Pensive

Legend  
Chapter VIII: Pensive  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Draco sat in front of the fire, allowing the flickering flames to create shadows across his  
face. Though he seemed focused on the blaze, his eyes didn't see it at all. His eyes saw two  
figures, not in the fire, but in his mind, that transferred the fire from the hearth to his heart.  
  
Harry and Ginny. Draco could tell Harry was convincing himself that Ginny was his girl,   
but he also knew that Ginny might melt for the Boy Who Lived eventually. That couldn't  
happen. He wouldn't let it. Harry didn't deserve her whatsoever, after all the years she'd liked  
him and he'd consistently ignored her. Now it was a complete role reversal; she was the  
cherished prize, but wouldn't have him for anything he could give. Draco laughed at his rival's  
dilemma. Harry could keep his pain, but not 'his' girl.   
  
She was perfect. Not the dream-girl, but pretty close. There was power behind those  
innocent fawn's eyes, power that wasn't just physical. He'd never seen her use magic, but was  
willing to bet she could beat the rest of her class hollow. Powerful, calm, gorgeous-- those  
weren't exactly Gryffindor qualities. They weren't Weasley qualities either, if you judged by her  
older brother. He was the least calm in the whole school, if it came to that, so how did she get to  
have such composure? However she got it, that power mixed with that composure was a deadly  
combination. Like an invisible enemy. You could never tell where it would strike.  
  
He didn't need to dwell on her beauty, because he was now so familiar with it. Calm,  
clear, powerful eyes, flaming curls usually in a ponytail, a full mouth just waiting to be kissed,  
and an amazing figure. She was dead sexy, but she was dangerous. He had to be on his toes  
when he was near her, or he would be on his back on the ground.   
  
He was now familiar with that position. The private fitness coaching had seemed like an  
unbelievably wonderful chance, but he had started hoping that Ginny would help Madam  
Pomfrey with anti-soreness presses and spells. He needed them much too often after her lessons.   
Of course, she taught him how to throw her, but he never could bring himself to do it. All Draco  
wanted to do was stand there, touching her, until his skin scorched with the shocks he absorbed  
from her fingertips.  
  
Fingertips-- that reminded him. Could she have seen the silvery glow hovering above her  
skin that night at the beginning of the year? Was that why he reacted to her? That could be the  
inexplicable sense of power she radiated. But she wouldn't answer him if he asked. It was  
obvious. Still, he needed to know, and badly, because maybe her dreams were clearer than his  
were and didn't just involve some girl. He would hope her dreams didn't involve some girl, at  
any rate. Draco was measurably positive that her dreams didn't involve girls because he was  
sure he'd seen her playing up to some of the other boys in the school. Of course, they had been  
too busy staring at her to notice, but it counted.  
  
He, Harry, and Ginny had to be connected somehow. Just the sight of Harry annoyed  
him. It wasn't hatred, or even dislike. It was rivalry, pure and simple. They were contending for  
the same girl, and eventually one of them would win and one would lose. He could have related  
his situation to a thousand stories and legends, except for one fact. Ginny didn't seem to be  
biased towards either one. She was completely indifferent, or at least acted like it, which gave  
him a headache. None of the stories he knew involved a completely indifferent girl being fought  
over by two boys, which made it much harder to think of the roles they were supposed to be  
playing. There were roles to be played, but what actor is any good without a script? He would  
just have to ad lib along until he figured it out.  
  
Disclaimer: Hello again. I got Amarria's review, which, basically just said "Post more now!"  
and decided to do that. 


	9. Ensemble

Legend  
Chapter IX: Ensemble  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
It snowed in January, snowfalls so thick that the students with their noses pressed to the  
classroom's windows couldn't discern one flake from another. Once the downpour ceased, a  
professor looking out from his or her window couldn't see the snow because of all the black-robed figures running around. Some of the more daring (or more graceful) wizards and witches  
went ice-skating on the lake while the Weasleys held their traditional snowball fight.  
  
Ginny, of course, didn't participate in the snowball fight. She chose instead to borrow a  
nervous friend's ice skates and try her luck on the lake. Kneeling beside it, she tied the laces  
with icy fingers. They stumbled and retied so many times that the shadow looming over her  
laughed.  
  
"I'm sure you won't be able to skate properly, if you can't tie the laces. Of course, you  
were too poor to afford a professional coach." His characteristic drawl immediately gave him  
away.   
  
Ginny stood up as she finished lacing up the skates and moved to stand on the ice. "I  
wouldn't be so confident," she replied. "I've actually managed to do somewhat admirably in the  
skating competitions I've entered."  
  
"How do you propose to prove that?" Draco tried to maintain his composure. He knew  
he looked good, but the 5th year was unbelievable. A pure white turtleneck sweater and brown  
trousers that fitted extremely well gave her that extra psychological edge. They also gave Draco  
shivers of ecstasy, but that was beside the point.  
  
She took off around the lake, red hair whisked by the rush of air created by her speed. As  
she neared the starting point, she pulled into a tight spin, whipped around, and stopped with  
ease.  
  
"I'll manage somehow." A confident smile lit her face as her eyes strained to look at him  
more. His collared, long-sleeved shirt was light enough to show off his broad shoulders and  
strong torso, but warm enough that he seemed unaffected by the cold. Black trousers, just the  
right length, gave off a smart, arrogant feeling that was almost tangible. She was drawn back to  
look him in the eye, grinning cheekily. Does he ever move his hair away from his eyes? She  
wondered, realizing that every time she'd seen him he'd been wearing that hairstyle that came  
with his good looks. "I've proven myself, so why don't you?"  
  
"Have you ever done a pair routine?" He asked aloud. He wished he hadn't. It made  
him seem too forward, too obviously wanting to skate with her. "I only skate with the best. If  
you're not up to the challenge, of course, I'll skate by myself."  
  
"I think I'm up to the challenge, but I'd rather you skated by yourself, thanks."  
  
"Frightened?"  
  
"Do I look frightened?"  
  
Draco almost spoke his mind before he caught himself. "Appearances can be deceiving.   
I'm sure you don't want to voice your inadequacy, so I'll just go now."  
  
"What inadequacy?" She laughed. "I can't voice what I don't have, but I'll prove it to  
you anyway."   
  
He hadn't had a chance to put his eyes back in until she was halfway across the ice,  
swaying from side to side and moving her arms elegantly. Ginny executed a perfect arabesque,  
which rapidly became a whirling attitude. He let her zip around the boundary of the lake once  
more, then put his hands on her wrists. She'd had her arms in a high "V" and her right leg at 90  
degrees to the front, but that position changed in a matter of seconds. Her hands lowered to her  
waist, with his on top, and her foot came to place below her knee, thigh flat to the front. They  
pirouetted as one, stopping breathless after almost ten turns. Instantaneously, he broke away and  
leapt into the air, landing perfectly. Not to be outdone, she copied his jump, to land and glide  
backwards with one leg outstretched behind.  
  
She has to have been taught, he thought in disbelief. There's no way she got that good on  
her own. But how, if the Weasleys have no money? All questions were pushed away for later as  
he used his inexhaustible strength to hold her up in a split leap. Does she ever look awkward?   
He asked. On ice or a balance beam, running, fighting, walking through the halls, she even  
seemed poised when she was arguing with him. Another turn, a change of direction, and he was  
in her control, being pulled forwards. Her smile stayed in place, as confident and pleased as  
anyone could be. She can't be, he thought, heart almost stopping. She can't possibly be flirting.   
That's what Pansy does. It would make sense, though, her smile, her letting me hold her hands  
and her waist. I'll just test her willingness, then.  
  
He dazzled her with a grin and started skating in a spiral, drawing her closer and closer to  
the centre. As they tightened the spin Draco's hands descended to her waist. Ginny let him  
secure his hold on her and even changed her grip to his waist. Their upper bodies were touching.   
He could have kissed her thousands of times in the seeming eternity that was the turn, but didn't.   
The rotation continued, and he was happy just to have her in his arms for a few moments.   
  
Harry, soaking from his participation in the snowball fight, walked down to the lake to  
collect his belongings and, as always must happen, saw the ending pose. Ginny, cheeks ruddy,  
was leaned back against his arm in the romantic pose always shown in dancing. His eyes danced  
more than the couples in those movies did, and Harry could see the romantic ending forming  
before his very eyes. It didn't. Ginny stood up and let Draco escort her to the edge of the lake,  
his arm still around her waist. A venomous glare in Malfoy's direction made his opinion about  
their recent activity clear.   
  
Being Harry, which is synonomous with over-protective, he marched over and hissed, "If  
you dared hurt her, I'll soon be the one hurting you."  
  
"We were ice-skating, Potter," Draco replied coolly. "She can skate with whomever she  
d*** well pleases, and she pleased to skate with me, so don't make it sound like she's yours. I  
know she's not."  
  
"She's not now, but she will be. Don't let me catch you again."  
  
"You won't."  
  
"Okay, fine," he said, not realizing that his enemy hadn't promised not to go near Ginny,  
but had said he wouldn't be caught. Just another example of Slytherin cunning.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, got it? Ensemble means together, if you didn't know. I thought it  
was appropriate because they spent the afternoon ensemble. I'm so sentimental. Well, I'm  
allowed. Anyway, the Mighty Joanne Rowling owns everything except the situations. If Viktor  
Krum can swim in the lake, then Draco and Ginny can skate on it. Next chapter: Harry tells  
Ron and Hermione what he saw down by the lake. REVIEW OR I WON'T TELL YOU WHO  
GINNY ENDS UP WITH! 


	10. Caught

Legend  
Chapter X: Caught  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Later in the week, he still hadn't told Ron what had happened on the lake. The snow  
hadn't melted, nor had the ice, but Harry still pondered the different ways to alert Ron about the  
danger Ginny could be in. No matter what Malfoy said, he was a Slytherin, and wouldn't stop at  
hurting a little Gryffindor to get what he wanted, even if what he wanted *was* the little  
Gryffindor. Ron hadn't seen the ice skaters during their routine. If he had, he would have  
reacted. It was up to Harry to tell an already suspicious friend about something he'd seen  
another do, while it was up to Ron to decide whether or not to believe him.  
  
A tousled mop of red hair was bent over a Potions book in the common room. Hermione  
was apparently trying to help, but wasn't managing very well. He slid into a chair on Ron's  
other side and cleared his throat. The mop shook once, then raised with the rest of the head.   
  
"Oh, hullo. What's happening? That git Snape gave so much homework I haven't been  
able to finish."  
  
"You didn't start until ten minutes ago," Hermione pointed out. Her friend glared. "Did  
you want to say something?"  
  
"Erm, yeah, I did, actually. Remember the snowball fight?"  
  
Ron nodded and smiled blearily. "You got soaked. Then you left in a huff."  
  
"Well, I went to get my sweater from the lake where I'd left it, and--"  
  
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Ginny was skating, wasn't she? Harry, you didn't,  
did you?"  
  
"He didn't, because if he did, he would die." Ron glared. "Right, Harry?"  
  
A frustrated sigh escaped him. "No, I didn't. May I get on with it?" His friends nodded.  
"Thank you. I didn't do anything to Ginny, but I saw her. She was skating with Malfoy!"  
  
"Just skating around the edge of the lake with him? What's so upsetting about that?"  
  
"That's the problem. It *wasn't* just around the edge of the lake. They were doing a   
routine or something." He explained.  
  
"Enh?"   
  
It was Hermione's turn to sigh in frustration. "Ron, come over here. Look out the  
window. You can see the lake, right?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, "but what does that have to do with--"  
  
"I'm going to fix your eyesight so you can see the individual people. Now look at those  
two right there-- he's helping her turn and jump and so on. That's what Malfoy and Gin were  
doing, right?" Harry nodded emphatically. "Just for fun, can you tell me who those two are?"  
  
"I believe you now, Harry," Ron said, not answering Hermione's question.   
  
"What does that have to do with the people skating?"  
  
"Plenty. It's Ginny and Malfoy!"  
  
*  
  
His heart soared. She'd been willing to practise some more, to skate with him again.   
They were trying some of the more complicated moves, like holds and lifts, and she didn't seem  
to be on her guard at all. That overwhelmed him. No one trusted him. No one in their right  
mind, at any rate. The cold air whistled in his ears as he followed her around the rim of the lake  
again. He blinked, and she had swiveled to face him, gliding in the opposite direction with her  
leg extended backwards. Her smile was confident and most definitely inviting. Still not  
believing that such a confident, powerful girl could be flirting with him, he grinned and sped  
around behind her. As he gripped her ankle she turned to face him and extended her arms. They  
came to rest on his shoulders.  
  
"Is that the best you can do?" He scoffed, pretending not to be impressed. That was the  
Draco Malfoy everyone knew. The one who wouldn't be caught dead ice skating with a  
Gryffindor.   
  
"Not quite." Still letting him hold her ankle, Ginny put on a domineering smile and  
hopped onto the tip of her skate, just long enough to look him in the eye properly. Once landed  
safely, she prepared to jump. He caught her other leg as she leapt upwards. One arm supported  
her back and neck while the other was looped under her knees, the same position as that in which  
most newlyweds enter the honeymoon suite. Her arms went around his neck as she grinned  
impishly. His heart almost exploded, it was beating so fast.   
  
Draco wouldn't have put her down if someone had offered him ten million Galleons and  
Voldemort's head on a platter. He started a large spiral, slowly skating in a wide circle. The  
speed increased as the diameter became smaller and smaller. Not once did his eyes move from  
hers. Finally, whipping around in place, he let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.   
It puffed into the air, becoming a miniature tornado with the speed of his turn.   
  
His speed slowly decreased until he was standing stock still, eyes remaining focused on  
the brown pair looking into his with equal intensity. Well? They asked him. Is that all? I know  
you've got more than that. It took him a milisecond to recognize his cue, his chance. Deliberate  
to the last, he bent his head, about to taste those delicate lips when, as he knew it would, a  
furious scream rent the air.  
  
"MALFOY! PUT HER DOWN *NOW*!" Ron bellowed.  
  
Draco sighed. "D***." She slid out of his arms and onto her feet elegantly, looking as  
little like a guilty toddler caught with her hand in the cooky jar as a willow tree looked like a  
stump. "What d'you want, Weasley?"  
  
"I want you to LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"  
  
She was still standing next to him, a silent reminder that she didn't feel obligated to  
dignify the demand with a response. "Why?" He responded, controlling his temper with an iron  
grip.   
  
None of the Trio had been expecting an almost monosyllabic answer. They all had been  
waiting for a drawling chain of insults expressed in such impressive vocabulary that only  
Hermione would be able to translate. Just 'why?' That was the answer to such an obviously  
explained order. He knew what they were going to say, but he asked them why? It didn't make  
sense. It was Malfoy, for Heaven's sake! He took every opportunity to insult them, so this one  
shouldn't have been any different. They could tell this *was* different, somehow.  
  
"Uhhh..." Ron, so outgoing when it came to defending his sister, couldn't begin to phrase  
his reason for doing so.   
  
"We don't trust you, Malfoy," Hermione said, coming to her friend's rescue. "Especially  
not when it comes to someone we all care about. So just let go of her and forget about it."  
  
He hadn't realized that his arm was still around her waist. "You said you all care about  
her? I can understand the Weasel caring about her, and maybe you, Mudblood, but him? He just  
wants what about a hundred other guys want. To get her in the bedroom. He doesn't care, really.   
He can't stand the thought that I can find it in my icy heart to do something more than all his  
hormones can." His tone of voice made it crystal clear that he knew exactly what he was talking  
about.  
  
Harry trembled with rage, emerald eyes narrowed in fury. "What," he asked, voice  
shaking, "is that?" The domineering b******, he thought. That bedroom comment would earn  
him several broken ribs.  
  
"If you can't figure it out, Potter," he said smugly, "you should consult with your little  
friends. They seem to be aware of my implications."  
  
That was true. Ron was probably more infuriated than Harry. Hermione's jaw was  
clenched and her hands worked into claws and fists as she struggled to keep from doing  
something she'd regret.  
  
"Don't you dare to suggest that you actually care," Harry continued. "We know better  
than that. You're as manipulative and sneaky as they come, and any way you can think of to get  
her in your room, any way at all, and you'll be satisfied. You yourself said you had an icy heart,  
but I don't think you have any heart at all. Just a pair of eyes and a machine somewhere in the  
void that is your mind that urges you to take advantage of innocence."  
  
Ginny cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her. "Thank you," she said in response  
to their attention. "I believe I've not said anything yet. This includes me as well, difficult  
though it may be to comprehend." Her companions looked sheepish. "As long as I retain my  
free will, which I guarantee has not been taken away, I am capable of making my own decisions.   
I will continue to do so for a very long time, and none of you, not even Ron, have the  
authorization to make choices for me. Therefore, if there were any problem with the recent  
occurrence, I would have acted in some way. There wasn't a problem, though if there ever is it  
will be discussed in a civil fashion. As none of you seem capable of that," she looked pointedly  
at Ron and Harry, "I will conduct the debate with Draco myself if the need arises. Understood?"  
  
"But Ginny, he was going to kiss you!" Ron argued.  
  
"Was he really?" She asked sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed. He was only carrying me  
and looking me right in the eye!" In a few moments her housemates had returned to the  
Gryffindor common room and she was untying her laces. Once finished, she pecked Draco on  
the cheek and strode back to the castle.   
  
He stood there, stunned, and clapped a hand to the place she'd kissed him. At least they  
hadn't been caught that time, or he would have gotten it from Potter. Well, rules don't exist if  
you don't get caught, he thought. And I don't intend to get caught.  
  
Disclaimer: Hee hee! Draco has fallen farther, but we may forget about air resistance,  
so it'll be a while before he hits the ground. I'm posting again tomorrow because I'm going on  
vacation (look out, Florida, here I come) and won't be home until next Wednesday. Tune in next  
time for Ginny's conversation with a portrait and what it reveals. 


	11. Chat

Legend  
Chapter XI: Chat  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
  
The Gryffindor girls' dormitories were probably just slightly more spacious than the  
boys'. They were all semi-circled in shape, with beds arranged around the curved edge. On the  
flat side there was a fireplace and a portrait of a matronly figure related to the Fat Lady.   
Whenever the girls needed advice, they went to her, because she had been around for quite a few  
years. About a thousand, to be exact. It was rumoured that she was related to Gryffindor in  
some way, but she never wanted to talk about herself. Her advice was always good, whether it  
was about controlling family members or on how to put stubborn hair up into a fabulous 'do.   
  
So after making sure that none of her dormmates were anywhere near the room, Ginny  
locked the door with a spell that blocked even the Alohomora charm and sat down on the sofa,  
head in hands. A loud sigh escaped her lips. She didn't like sharing her problems, but a painting  
couldn't make fun of her and wouldn't tell anyone. Matron had been told so many secrets in her  
years that she could clear up any mystery with her background knowledge. However, she had  
never revealed any of them to anyone but the person who had told her.   
  
"Is there a problem, dear?" Matron asked. Had she been able to pat her charge on the  
shoulder, she would have.  
  
"No. Not just a problem. Lots of problems." She sighed again and lifted her head from  
her hands.   
  
"If you don't want anyone to hear, perhaps you should spell the door."  
  
She nodded and dug her hand into her pocket for her wand. It wasn't there. That wasn't  
possible. She'd just done a spell, and spells that complicated require wands, whether you're a  
powerful mage or not. So how on earth had the door been locked shut?   
  
"I--I don't have my wand," she stuttered in disbelief. "I locked the door a minute ago,  
but I don't have it. Did you see me with it when I came in?"  
  
The painting creased her painted forehead. "No," she said hesitantly. "But you locked  
the door, I'm sure of that. Would you mind trying to spell it without your wand?"  
  
"All right. Should I just point at it, then?" Matron nodded. "Here goes nothing." Ginny  
screwed her eyes shut in concentration, pointed her index finger at the door, and said  
"Silencieus!" Her inanimate companion stared in amazement as a bolt of silver encompassed the  
portal, blocking all passages for the sound to escape. Opening an eye nervously, Gin asked "Did  
it work?"  
  
"Apparently." A strangled tone came into the portrait's voice. "Is this one of the  
problems you wanted to discuss with me?"  
  
"It is now. I've never been able to do that, and I don't think even Professor Dumbledore  
can. He's the most powerful wizard in the world!"  
  
"I believe the last recorded instance of a witch doing magic without a wand was Morgan  
Le Fay, but she used a gem to focus her magic. An opal, I think it was. Black opals are the best  
for spell casting."  
  
It was Ginny's turn to sound strangled. "Opals? Did you just say opals?"  
  
"Yes, I did. Are you having trouble with your hearing as well?" Matron asked  
impatiently.  
  
"No, I've just been having dreams about a black opal. I think it may have to do with this  
wandless magic thing. Do I need an opal to use this magic properly?"  
  
She shook her head. "It would help. I think Morgan could work without one, and did so  
for a bit before she acquired the gem, but this is unheard of. Even Merlin couldn't perform any  
charms without his staff."  
  
"So I need to get an opal. You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?" The last was  
meant to be a joke, as a portrait couldn't be expected to have hidden any precious stones away.  
  
"Not quite. There are some in the castle, though." Her head cocked to one side. "In  
some part of the Gryffindor wing. Godric was a bit of a nut about Arthur and his belongings. He  
hid away the opal and some other Arthurian relics. If the opal works for you I'll be quite  
surprised. Morgan charmed it to only work for her or her descendants. Unless..."  
  
"I am in no way related to Morgan Le Fay, if that's what you were going to ask."  
  
"Well, it was worth a try. You may want to practice without the stone. It would make it  
easier for you once you managed to get one."  
  
Realizing that they had gotten completely off the topic, she switched the conversation to  
her original request. "Have you heard anything about Harry Potter lately?"  
  
"I've heard say that you're his latest conquest," Matron said delicately. "Are you two  
having a lover's spat?"  
  
"NO!" Ginny was on her feet. "We're not having a lover's anything. The only thing the  
b****** wants is to get me in his bed, which he has demonstrated sufficiently already!" Her  
eyes blazed.   
  
"Ah. That would be the first problem, then. Have you tried to discourage him in any  
way?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Let's see. I've flipped him onto his back and punched him in the  
mouth. He had to go to Madam Pomfrey the second time, but not the first."  
  
"That hasn't dissuaded him, has it?"  
  
"He caused an almighty uproar when he saw me ice skating with someone, and has made  
it clear that he wants me, but nothing physical."  
  
The portrait nodded. "I would keep up the attacks. Hopefully he'll end up so bruised that  
he won't want to risk it. Anything else you'd like to discuss?"  
  
Ginny sat down again, more relaxed now that it wasn't thought that she was involved  
with Harry. "Remember how I said Harry got mad when he saw me ice skating with someone?"   
When her companion nodded the affirmative, she continued. "It was Draco Malfoy. He's really  
confusing me, and I think I know what he wants, but he's going about it in an extraordinary way.   
He's nice sometimes, mocking sometimes, and then others he just stares at me. It was so much  
fun when we were skating, but at the end he picked me up and would have kissed me if Harry,  
Ron, and Hermione hadn't bellowed at him."  
  
"Draco Malfoy was going to kiss you?"  
  
"What, did you not hear me? That's what I said."  
  
Matron looked a bit surprised. "I've heard nothing good about Draco Malfoy. Actually,  
that's inaccurate. Nothing good about his personality, but the number of girls blithering on about  
his good looks is unbelievable. You're not egging him on, are you? Because he wouldn't think  
twice about it, and you're probably quite appealing to the young men."  
  
She went red, remembering how she had practically dared him to do something like that  
almost-kiss. It might not have been so bad, she thought, then went an even darker red for  
thinking about kissing Malfoy. He's amazingly handsome, and not at all clumsy or stupid, one  
side of her mind argued. And it's not like he wouldn't have enjoyed it, it added slyly. Don't try  
to deny it. He's probably quite good. After he fell on top of you he was grinning like the  
Cheshire Cat; I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been imagining doing certain things with  
certain people. The red was almost maroon now.   
  
"I may have seemed to be encouraging him," she finally admitted. Her deep blush gave  
her away. "We were ice skating, and he had one of my ankles. My hands were on his shoulders.   
I jumped, and he caught my other leg so he was holding me. He made a big spiral, and when he  
got to the centre the spin went really fast. The whole time he was looking right at me. Then he  
stopped, and I kind of looked at him in a way that may have persuaded him to act. But Ron  
shouted, so he put me down."  
  
Eyebrows a mile high, the portrait coughed slightly to attempt to keep a hold on her  
dignity. "Well. I'm not a mind reader, but I'd say you wouldn't have minded if your brother  
hadn't interrupted."  
  
Her face was on fire. She had to admit it, though, it would have been nice. She'd never  
been kissed before. A new experience was always welcomed in her dull life.   
  
"I can see that I was correct. Just don't do anything you'll regret, dear."   
  
"Thank you, Matron," Ginny managed to say while fighting off the urge to tear the  
portrait to shreds. She would have had to admit that she wouldn't have minded if he'd  
continued, but to have a painting tell her was almost more than she could bear. A solution came  
to mind almost immediately. "Oh, and Matron?"  
  
"Mmmm-hmmm?"  
  
"I'm glad we had this chat, but you'll just have to forget all about it. Obliviate!"  
  
As she walked out of the room, she heard Matron's sleepy murmur of "Chat? What  
chat?" 


	12. Flame

Legend  
Chapter XII: Flame  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
As night fell, a lone Slytherin meandered through the castle's dungeons to his dormitory.   
He had his own room, courtesy of his position as a Prefect and of his unbelievably wealthy  
father, furnished with a green-curtained four poster, night table, desk accompanied by a chair,  
and fireplace. A thick rug prevented his feet from catching cold, though he chose to leave the  
rest of himself cold by never lighting the fire. A casual snap of his fingers illuminated the room,  
chasing the shadows into corners where they wouldn't be detected.  
  
He slid into the carved desk chair with the grace he made sure to use at all times and slit  
open an envelope closed with the Malfoy seal. When would his father finally use his famed  
Slytherin cunning and realize that Voldemort would banish all his followers the moment he  
gained control? Every day a thick stationery envelope lay on his desk when he returned after  
evening activities, the rounded script inside exhorting him to accept his destiny and bear the Dark  
Mark with as much pride as his father did. Father. He spat the word. It meant nothing to him.   
The only things he could thank the man linked to him by the intricacies of biology for were a  
good education, his magic, and money. After all, what kind of Slytherin would he be without  
money?  
  
Tongues of flame devoured the thick paper eagerly as a smile played around the edges of  
Draco's mouth. It was the high point of his day to watch that hated signature become a mound of  
ash, unrecognisable and the very symbol of destruction. He wanted to turn his father to ash. The  
second to last scrap of paper, the one containing the introduction, was licked up and left only the  
greeting. Dear Draco. He scoffed. Fire embraced it and blackened it beyond recognition. Those  
flames gave him such vindictive pleasure that he would have loved to hold the flame in his hand  
and stare as each red hot flicker bit into everything his father believed in.   
  
Flame. Her gorgeous, silky hair was a flame, and she was red hot without a doubt.   
Flirting. Ginny. The words didn't attach to each other in any way, but her way of doing so fitted  
her perfectly. A seductive smile, lidded eyes, and confident movements lured her prey to her  
more accurately than fluttering eyelashes or dropped handkerchiefs. Her eyes were  
unremarkable in themselves. Mahogany, but deep and clear, so expressive that her eye messages  
were better understood than her enigmatic turns of phrase. She'd wanted him to hold her, to kiss  
her. Not a word had been spoken, but she'd transmitted the message nonetheless. Those eyes  
had transmitted the message with their incredulity at his unwillingness to give a more extensive  
display of his abilities. They had entranced him. He hadn't been able to look away while he  
held her. For Heaven's sake, he hadn't been able to believe that he actually held her, not some  
goddess who looked like her and wanted to torment him. A tight spin gave him leave to hold her  
more tightly, which he'd done with pleasure.  
  
How had they caught him? He couldn't begin to understand any possible reason for the  
Gryffindors to be watching the lake. It wasn't as though they were in collusion to catch  
Slytherins doing something wrong. Ron probably thought his timing was perfect, just right to  
save the helpless damsel at the last moment, right when her captor was going to give her a kiss.   
Draco thought it would have been better if they'd arrived earlier, for the thought of being within  
two millimeters of tasting those lovely lips would torture him until he finally won her. Which  
wouldn't be too long, considering how much she'd resisted him on the lake. Not much. Not at  
all was more like it. Oh, he would show Potter, take that awful swagger out of the Gryffindor's  
step and take his girl with it.   
  
His girl. Yeah, right. Every time Potter tried something, she was ready with some brand  
of defense. Rumours spread nonetheless, giving the particulars of their romantic relationship.   
Had anyone cared to tell the truth, they would have added Harry's trip to the hospital wing and  
the incident they appeared to have had in the common room at the very beginning of the year.   
Well, he couldn't blame his arch-rival for wanting her. That was probably the only thing they  
agreed on, other than that they hated each other. She was just so beautiful, and by looking at her  
anyone could tell she had power. It was in the way she walked, in her nonchalance, in her  
ringing voice. Obvious as well was her intelligence. Her eloquence was unmistakable,  
especially when put to use in righteous fury. Anyone could see the cogs turning in her mind after  
presenting an interesting point in a debate or a fact relating to the subject she was trying to  
understand. She always made connections.   
  
Doubly dangerous, Ginny was. For the moment he was content to slip into dozing  
fantasies of her beauty and wit without having to fulfill them.  
  
~ A spotlight seemed to be on him in the Great Hall. Everyone looked his way as Ginny,  
more gorgeous than usual in a very short, tight skirt and sleeveless shirt, stepped across the room.   
He didn't wait a moment before drawing her into his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. It sent  
shivers down his spine, but shivers of excitement. Once he could force himself to release her, he  
kept his arms linked around her middle and walked out for some more privacy.   
  
Harry stood in the doorway. "Let her go, Malfoy."  
  
He laughed. "Jealous, Potter? Jealous because she won't let you hold her like this?   
Jealous because she'll never let you kiss her? I would be if I were you."  
  
Green eyes smoldering, his enemy's furious gaze followed the pair out of the Great  
Hall.~  
  
Draco sighed. That scene gave him such pleasure. The look on Potter's face embodied  
his goal; to kill two birds with one stone and wound the stuck-up Gryffindor by displaying his  
affection for Ginny and hers for him. All he needed was to put the fantasy into practise.   
  
A second snap plunged the room into darkness, the fire the only light. Now the shadows  
held the light at bay. He didn't care. A muttered charm doused the fire as he crept, catlike, out  
of the dungeons and to the grounds. The dark of night and cold winds created by flight would  
help him think. Perhaps then he could win her over.  
  
Disclaimer: Yes, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights is by John Steinbeck. I can see  
it from where I'm sitting, and it most definitely says "John Steinbeck" on the cover. So if you've  
got a problem with that, come over and I'll bash you over the head with it until you accept the  
fact that it *is* a Steinbeck book. Thank you. Next time: Ginny needs to think, but is  
interrupted by her least favorite Gryff. 


	13. Trapped

Legend  
Chapter XIII: Trapped  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Gryffindor's balcony overlooked the now-frozen lake and was adjacent to the common  
room. Ginny made good use of this information and stood outside, bathed in the warm firelight  
from the Den, as its most frequent occupants called it. She needed to think. Wandless magic--  
that wasn't possible for witches or wizards. No one could do it. The smooth wood of the railing  
was cool under her fidgeting fingers. Resisting the urge to look at it, she kept her head up and  
looked at the pool of metallic light created by the moon's reflection on the lake. Anyone could  
see that she was upset by the way she stood in the corner and clutched the railing tightly, but no  
one seemed to want to see her.  
  
Harry always saw her. If she were near, he knew from the surge of aggression and  
possession that almost overpowered him. Now that she seemed so vulnerable, so afraid, he  
thought he would try to comfort her. At least, that was what he told his mind to justify his  
actions. He knew he would lose control over his limbs once he reached her side. But the  
firelight spilling over her back and red-gold hair illuminated her. She was a beacon in the  
darkness, a light in the shadowy forest that called all wayfarers to her delicate iridescence. If she  
were lost, it was his turn to be the buoy and keep her afloat.  
  
She was lost, but not unable to find her way. The deep recesses of her mind seemed  
impenetrable in the blackness that surrounded her. No hints of this power were hidden in her  
past. Her wandless magic was inexplicable, and seemed it would remain that way for the  
present. Ginny turned her mind to Harry. Thankfully he hadn't attempted to have anything to do  
with her lately, but he was over-protective. It bothered her, because they weren't related and he  
had absolutely no claims to her time or affection. As long as he kept his hands off, she wouldn't  
force him to stop.  
  
As soon as she prayed that he would keep away, a large hand came to rest on either side  
of the elbows she'd balanced on the rail. "Think of the Devil," she muttered, so quietly he didn't  
hear her. Louder, she said "What a surprise to see you here, Harry. I was just contemplating the  
amazing peace of solitude."  
  
"Beg pardon?" He asked drowsily.   
  
"I was enjoying being alone."   
  
Her harsh tone cut through any hopes he'd cherished about her falling into his arms.   
"Well, then you won't mind that we're alone, will you?"  
  
She turned around to address him properly and swallowed a gasp as she realized how  
close he was. "Perhaps you misunderstood. I like being by myself. Not with other people."  
  
"You were certainly relishing your time with Malfoy this afternoon," he pointed out  
lightly.  
  
"He's a very good ice skater. You're not."  
  
"How do you know?" The distance between them was decreasing by the second.   
"You've never seen me skate."  
  
"Come just a little bit closer, Harry," she said dangerously. Pretending to misunderstand,  
he did so, bringing him within an inch of her black-clad figure. Her glare was evident even in the  
dark. "and I will drop you over the railing. Understood?"  
  
The only response was a tiny step forwards. "I don't think you will."  
  
"Oh?" One eyebrow raised.   
  
He dragged his hands off of the rail and onto her waist. "You'll be too busy." Ginny  
leaned backwards to avoid him and to get room for a fist or a knee to the you-know-where.   
There was no room. She'd already been right in the corner, and that left no room for backing up  
to evade the mouth that landed exactly on hers. Her eyes shut of their own accord while she  
struggled to get a fist loose. Harry wasn't as stupid as he looked, however, and pinned her arms  
to her sides. His whole upper body was flattened against hers. She bent back, trying to get  
herself as far away from him as possible, but his strong arms pulled her back.   
  
Kisses, hard and rough, forced themselves on her lips. She felt bruised and gasped for  
breath. This only left an opening for him to achieve his goal and give her both her first kiss and  
her first snog. She couldn't help but think that Draco would never lose control of himself like  
that. He would be as cool and composed when he kissed her as he was when he talked or flew.   
Fury boiled in her blood. Harry knew she was unwilling. The God d*** b****** knew she  
would never have let him touch her if he hadn't had her backed into a corner. This anger finally  
gave her the strength to wrench her arms out of his grasp and sock him in the nose. She relished  
the crack she heard as it broke.   
  
"Pity," she said. "Now there's blood on my robes."  
  
  
*  
  
  
Light on a balcony attracted Draco's attention. It was yellow, as though from a fire. A  
sole shadow obstructed the light's flow. The shadow moved, shut the balcony door, and  
apparently locked it. Wind, fierce and cold, whipped the figure's thin robes. Instead of curling  
into a ball, it stretched what seemed to be its head out. The fluttering curls identified it as a girl.   
Who is that? He asked himself. She's angry, but that doesn't help.   
  
Ginny was still furious after she locked the door. She needed some outlet for her rage.   
The wind helped a bit by chilling her, but the boiling inside cancelled the icy grip on her bones.   
Oh, she would get him for that. He had a broken nose, of course, but that had been a physical  
injury. If she added a mental one on top of that, it would ease her feelings slightly. In the  
meantime, the anger rolled off of her bones in waves, poisoning the air.  
  
He saw a huge bubble around her glow silver, and realized that it had to be a spell of  
some sort. No wand, he thought. She hadn't had one when she'd locked the door. How? I  
don't know anyone who can do magic without a wand. No one can do magic without a wand, for  
that matter. Even Merlin couldn't, and he was the greatest wizard of all time. It's impossible.   
So how is it that some tiny witchling is creating a shield around herself without magic? Or is it  
not a shield? The sparks floating around her receded into her skin, and an audible sigh floated  
out to Draco. She went in, glowing in the firelight. Before he could see who she was, the door  
closed.  
  
I have to be careful, Ginny thought. I can't afford another magic trick like that. It helped  
with the anger, though. Don't get discovered, and most importantly, don't get stuck in a corner  
like that. Don't let yourself get trapped. 


	14. Discussions

Legend  
Chapter XIV: Discussions  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Harry's broken nose had not improved while Ginny let her anger out in the form of  
glittering scintilla. He trudged down to the Hospital Wing, waited a bit for it to heal, and insisted  
that he return to his dormitory. After all, he was a Prefect, and his House relied on him for  
leadership. Madam Pomfrey let him go reluctantly, clucking about children who didn't know  
what was good for them. Her subtlety, or lack thereof, had no effect on him.   
  
The lovely paintings and tapestries on the walls were unnoticed as he placed foot before  
leaden foot. One picture was on his mind, and that was the picture he felt branded across his  
forehead. It was more like a movie, really, had he cared to think about it. Ginny, calm and  
bothered, looked him right in his mind's eye. As though seeing it from outside, he watched  
himself put his arms around her waist and kiss her. His lack of control was obvious, but just the  
memory of her heat against his torso sent shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. She had the  
softest skin he'd ever touched, and couldn't stop tracing circles on the back of her neck with his  
thumb and index finger while his mouth was glued to hers. Her gasps encouraged him to liven  
things up with a little bit of tongue. He'd just begun to get into it when her fist smashed into his  
nose. Blood spurted onto both of their robes. Smiling smugly, she watched him rush out to get  
professional help.   
  
Harry almost hurt the still-tender cartilage of his nose by walking into the Fat Lady.   
"Pufferfish scales," he said before she could ask him for the password. The flickering firelight of  
the common room tossed shadows onto the stone floors outside. He slipped through without  
hesitation and looked for Ron and Hermione.   
  
They sat together, bickering as usual. "No, he'd done something to his face, there was  
blood everywhere!"  
  
"Yes, well, where exactly do you think he was before his nose started bleeding? D'you  
think it just appeared by magic?"  
  
Ron pretended to look thoughtful and said "I think it's possible, actually."  
  
"I *know* it's possible! I've learnt the spell, but he hasn't." Hermione, exasperated with  
the vicious cycle her arguments with Ron followed, spotted Harry and called out "Harry! Are  
you all right? What happened to your nose?"  
  
"I'm all right," he replied with a note of compunction in his voice. "It kind of broke, but  
Madam Pomfrey fixed it up."  
  
"How did it break on the balcony? Did you fall asleep and bang your head on the  
railing?"  
  
"Not quite," he said, evading the question.   
  
Hermione was considerably more observant than Ron and knew that Ginny had been  
outside when her friend had expressed a sudden urge for fresh air. "Exactly why did she hit you  
this time?"  
  
"I just-- I mean, she wasn't even there, what're you talking about?"  
  
His best friend looked up at him and said "I can't argue with you about this any more,  
Harry. Why can't you leave her alone?"  
  
"I can't. I just can't. Ginny's gorgeous, amazing, beautiful, divine, I can't go on enough  
to say it properly, and I seem to be incapable of not--you know. Please, convince her I'm not  
that bad, I can't stand it," he finished with an imploring look at Ron.  
  
"I'm not convincing her of anything. That's your job. You won't get any pity from me,  
though, if you keep trying to win her over and she hits you."  
  
Harry sighed. "As long as you don't bellow at me, I won't ask for pity."  
  
"Deal."  
  
*  
  
"Ginny, did you hear? Potter--"  
  
Ginny rolled over onto her stomach and finished "--broke his nose, I know." The soiled  
robes now rested in the hamper and had been exchanged for black pajama shorts and a sleeveless  
shirt.  
  
Frances looked at Ginny, bemused. "How d'you know? He just got back, and he hadn't  
told anyone it'd been broken."  
  
"How do you think I know?" Her self confident smile made it apparent that she'd had a  
hand in the destruction of Harry's face, or rather a fist. She stretched, a very graceful and catlike  
movement, and yawned as though she were bored. Her velvety coverlet wrinkled as she curled  
up and stretched out. It was dark green and comfortable, perfect for reclining and snuggling  
under during the winter.  
  
No answer was needed for that question. "What did he do?" Her friend sat down on the  
bed, looking very earnest and worried. Blue eyes wide, she stared at Ginny in disbelief. She had  
seen this girl in first year hiding from everyone, especially herself, so timid that if she were in the  
room, no one knew. Now she was confident, powerful, elegant, and able to talk about her recent  
fights without a hint of remorse. True, Ginny had been very calm and controlled last year, but  
the difference was still startling. It was as though something had taken her over and exaggerated  
her traits, making her better and stronger than before. Frances thought it was an improvement,  
but to a certain degree. If the development continued, she would be uncontrollable.  
  
Her cold voice cut through her companion's pensive mood. "He snogged me, what the  
Hell did you think he'd done?"  
  
He seemed to be changing too fast as well. "I don't know," she replied, buying herself  
some time to ponder Harry's turmoil. He'd been enamored of Cho Chang for as long as she  
cared to remember, and suddenly he was all over Ginny. "Any details you'd care to give me?"  
  
"Not particularly, but I will anyway. I was out on the balcony, kind of in the corner,  
trying to be alone and think about something. He walked right up behind me and put one of his  
hands on either side of mine on the railing. Pleasant conversation didn't quite work while I was  
facing the other direction, so I turned around, and he was about two steps away and leaning over  
me. You know the drill, hands on waist, my threats, his disregard of my threats. He kissed me  
and pinned my arms so I couldn't hit him. There was no room to back away because I'd already  
been in the corner. I just was furious, especially when he dared to start-- I think you understand  
without details-- so I broke his hold and punched him in the nose. Made some comment about it  
being a pity that he'd gotten blood on my robes. He left and I stayed outside a bit to calm down.   
Didn't work, though," she added, leaving out the silver that had swirled into shape around her.   
"I'm still rather upset."  
  
Frances sucked in a breath. "Well," she said delicately, "I think I can understand that."  
  
*  
  
At breakfast the next morning both Ginny and Harry appeared, the former calm and  
collected, the latter somewhat nervous about the gossip already spreading about him. The  
familiar faces at the Gryffindor table gave him no solace.  
  
The younger Gryff searched for a spot as far away from her enemy as possible. Ron and  
Hermione had different ideas, however. They saw her scanning the table for an empty spot and  
not finding one, even among her friends and classmates.  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione called. "Come sit with us. There's an empty seat next to Harry."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and she swore softly. She would've preferred to sit next  
to Malfoy, for Heaven's sake. Well, that couldn't be considered all that odd, as she didn't  
particularly like Harry, and had a penchant for that extremely handsome Slytherin. Ginny didn't  
want to seem cowardly, so she put a little swagger into her walk and slid elegantly into the seat  
next to Harry.   
  
A sweet smile and the seemingly kind "How's your nose this morning, Harry?" made his  
anxiety more profound.  
  
He reddened at her comment. "Much better, thanks," was all he said, but he avoided her  
eyes. Partially because looking at her at all would have caused him to try something that Ron  
wouldn't appreciate, but also because he was half afraid of what he'd see there.   
  
"So, have you told Ron and Hermione about your evening?" She asked, trying to make  
him embarrassed. It had already worked somwhat, but she was almost sure that they hadn't  
gotten the full story.  
  
"We got the general idea," Ron growled, "but he didn't tell us anything."  
  
Her shocked expression made it clear that she was just trying to shock and outrage her  
brother. "Why don't you give them the rest of the story? I'm sure they'd love to hear it.   
Especially the part where I told you, in no uncertain terms, not to come near me, and you did it  
anyway."  
  
"Ummm." He said, redder than before. Hermione's eyebrows were a mile high and she  
looked at her best friend suspiciously.  
  
"I'll just leave now," Ginny said, smiling to herself as Harry began to stutter out his story.   
  
Once outside the Great Hall, she laughed. She had no pity for Harry, but it looked like  
she'd come off the better in that discussion. 


	15. Retaliation

Legend  
Chapter XV: Retaliation  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
"Ingri, I need your help," Gin said one afternoon. That was a rare occurrance, as she  
generally did what she needed to do by herself. "I got Potter back physically, but I'd really  
prefer to mess with his head a bit. Have you any ideas?"  
  
A smile spread over the taller girl's face as inspiration hit. "I know exactly what you  
should do. You just have to find what Potter wants, then dangle it in front of him but not let him  
have it. He'll be furious and confused at the same time."  
  
"I think I know what Potter wants." Ginny made a face. "What do I have to do?"  
  
Frances leapt from her bed and opened up her closet. "I've been growing quite a bit  
lately, and not all of my clothes still fit. Maybe you could use these...?" She proposed,  
indicating several suggestive pieces of clothing, like a pair of tight black velvet trousers that had  
bell bottoms, a few shirts that were just that tiny bit too short, and several summer-weight pieces  
of clothing that had either very thin straps or none at all.  
  
"Ah," Ingrid said. "That's perfect. We just need to get all of the tables in the common  
room filled except his. And you'd better try these on, Gin. We don't want you to be unable to  
move, in case he tries something."  
  
"Which, unfortunately, is highly likely. Well, I asked for it. C'mon, then, let's get this  
figured out."  
  
  
*  
  
Harry studied with Seamus in the Gryffindor common room. Their circular table had one  
empty spot between the two boys, now laden with books and scrolls. Harry's inkwell was  
balanced atop a precarious pile of potions texts and extra quills. He dipped his quill in the ink  
carefully, making sure not to knock it over and soil all of the papers. A sigh escaped his lips;  
McGonagall was more strict than ever with her sixth years. Taking, to his mind, a much needed  
break, he lay down his quill and looked round the common room. And saw Ginny.  
  
She was walking down the stairs with just that little bit of panache that got her so much  
attention. Harry swallowed. He saw the black velvet trousers that clung to her thighs, waist, and  
behind, ending in a slight bell over her feet, he saw the stretchy olive-green shirt with the sleeves  
rolled up to above the elbows, and definitely saw what the clinginess of those clothes made  
evident. As the trousers were low-slung and the shirt was cropped to a bit above her waist, her  
golden skin was very visible.  
  
"D***," he breathed appreciatively. Seamus, next to him, hadn't looked up. Harry  
punched him in the elbow and pointed towards the fire, which she was now standing in front of.   
The light brought out the golden streaks in her hair and made it seem even more as though she'd  
taken some flickering flames and attached them to her head.  
  
Seamus looked, and uttered such an eloquent remark that it put Harry's to shame. "Holy  
crap," he said quietly, eyes wide. He, too, saw every perfect facet of Ginny's appearance. The  
two boys were so busy staring that they hadn't noticed when she tapped her brother's best friend  
on the shoulder.  
  
"D'you mind if I work here? There's no more room."   
  
Harry's face cracked into a grin. "Mind? No, not at all. You can sit there." He indicated  
the empty seat that had been squished next to his. Plans ran through his head, all of them  
designed to get Ginny away somewhere where what he wanted to do wouldn't scar the firsties for  
life.  
  
"Umm... where are your books?" Seamus asked, puzzled. He was right. She hadn't any  
with her, but she obviously wanted to study.   
  
A benevolent smile spread over her face. "In my dormitory. I don't like to carry them,  
so I usually do this. Accio textbooks!" They whizzed through the air to land on the clear space  
of the table right in front of her. "It's so much easier. Don't you agree?"  
  
"I never thought of that," her suitor said. "Hermione hasn't, either. That'd be a good  
idea for her. She usually has so many books with her that she has to make two trips upstairs to  
carry them all."  
  
"Mmm-hmmm." Now immersed in the wonders of runes, she was oblivious to anything  
he could say. Her head was bent over her work, creating a sheet of curls on one side. Her eyes  
were focused on her paper, half closed to Harry, who watched the lashes flicker for a moment  
before turning back to his own work.   
  
Three quarters of an hour passed, and Ginny finally set down her quill to stretch. It was  
an elegant, luxurious movement that caught her neighbour's attention at once. He watched  
interestedly as the bottom of her already-short shirt crawled up her stomach. One strong arm  
went around the bare midriff as she relaxed.  
  
She slipped her fingers between her waist and his hand, prying it away from her. "Not  
here," was all she said.  
  
"So do you want to go somewhere else?" He asked, laughing a deep laugh that was meant  
to melt her. "Because I really wouldn't mind getting up."  
  
"I'd rather not, actually," she smiled, continuing her work.   
  
*  
  
Ginny went up to her dormitory before the boys did, giving her hips that little swing that  
prompted her question about whether or not Harry'd put his wand in his pocket. His intense eyes  
were on her back, neck, bare arms, and waist. Every movement was just right. Her arms swung  
nonchalantly by her thighs, her hair bounced against her back, her waist bent slightly from side to  
side, and her hips swung. He couldn't stop staring at her.  
  
Seamus followed Harry's gaze, falling under the 5th year's spell for a moment. "What  
was that?" He asked, indicating Ginny's behaviour that night.  
  
"That," Harry said remorsefully, "was painful." She had been right next to him, and  
wearing the most amazing, suggestive outfit he'd ever seen. What he would've given to drag her  
up to the Astronomy Tower at that moment! "You saw her, didn't you? I wasn't hallucinating?"  
  
"Unless a gorgeous, redheaded supermodel has come to Hogwarts, that was one dead-sexy fifth year."  
  
*  
  
She did that every night that week. Harry had been at the point of drooling several times,  
as she had told her fellow conspirators between giggles. Saturday was a Hogsmeade trip, which,  
as Ron had told her, was a good time to see Harry. Rather, as she planned, to throw his groove  
off with a staring contest.   
  
"I don't know, Frances," she said, seeming to waver for the first time since the initiation  
of her mess-with-Potter's-head strategy. "It's only April. Isn't that just a bit skimpy?"  
  
"Don't be silly, it's fine. Don't you want to get Potter back?"  
  
"Yes, but that's a halter top, and I don't think those shorts come down very far past my  
a**. Anything a little longer?" She asked, indicating the strappy white garment her friend held  
in one hand and the minuscule black shorts in the other.   
  
Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Are you a witch or not? You can make them longer like this:  
Longuenios mini!" The shorts became a few inches longer, and Ginny sighed.   
  
She grabbed them out of Frances' hand and went into the bathroom. "I'll wear them, but  
I get to keep my robes on over them!" The slam of the door cut off any arguments her friends  
may have had.  
  
"What d'you bet Potter flips when he sees her?"  
  
"Plenty," Ingrid replied with a devilish laugh. 


	16. Games People Play

Legend  
Chapter XVI: Games People Play  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Hogsmeade was fresh and green for the first time since Spring Holiday. A pale yellow sun warmed the students as they roamed the village happily, laughing and shouting to their friends. Most of them wore their more comfortable Muggle clothes, though some could be found sporting the black robes that marked them as mages-in-training. Ginny was one of these, hiding her very skimpy ensemble beneath the swath of black fabric. She grinned at all of the staring boys, tossing her head and allowing the fiery mass to cascade down her back. Good looks could be used as weapons, she realized, to torture those who were captivated by them.  
  
Draco stood alone by the side of the road, clearly in pain. She must be doing this on purpose, he thought. She wants to hurt everyone, and she's doing it right. None of us can resist that hair, that walk, or those eyes. We're crawling along behind her, like dogs on her leash, drooling and watching those legs take step after confident step forwards. His mind writhed. He'd been tortured by so many dreams of her, of being milimeters above her lips and then waking up. They were patterned with the dream-girl and her figure, her perfection, until he could hardly tell one from the other. Her words--or were they Ginny's words?-- were racing around the empty places in his mind, chasing each other into corners and permanently branding themselves into his memory.  
  
A growl by his ear shook him out of his reveries. "Don't think about it. She's mine."  
  
"Like she was the last time, right, Potter?" He grinned malevolently.  
  
"Oh, she's mine, all right," Harry said. "Every night she's come into the common room wearing indescribably form-fitting clothes and has sat down next to me. That says something. She likes me as much as I like her, and when she walks this way, she'll stop and come over."  
  
Despite the Gryffindor's hope, Ginny walked right past them, not even acknowledging their presence. Draco was struck again by her beauty. She even made the Hogwarts robes look good, and they were designed to look awful on everyone. His smirk made Harry furious, angry enough to pound that twisted, cocky smile into the ground.   
  
"She'll stop and come over, will she, Potter? I think you've been proved wrong once more."  
  
He seethed in silence, plotting revenge. On Malfoy, that is. What he had in mind for Ginny was a fantasy he cherished in hope of finally getting his own room and getting her in it.  
  
*  
  
"Right, Slytherins versus Gryffindors. If you refuse to answer a question or do what you're dared, you're out. You leave once you get out. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed," chorused the group. It had come, as all of these stories must, to the inevitable game of Truth or Dare. The Gryffindors insisted that they would win, while the Slytherins disagreed loudly and maliciously. Whoever won received bragging rights over the opposite House for the rest of the year.   
  
Early in the game, a Slytherin asked Ginny if she was wearing normal clothes under her robes. A calm glare and a cool answer in the affirmative earned her the dare to take off the robes so everyone could see what she was wearing.   
  
"If you insist," she said, peeling off the black material. Her slightly tan skin glowed against the white of her tight halter top. Draco grinned, unaware that he was doing it. So that was what Potter had meant by form-fitting clothes. She could come sit next to him anytime she wore that. By then Ron was out, having been dared to kiss Pansy Parkinson, which he would not do on any condition.  
  
"Potter," Thomas Nott said. "Would you mind telling the group what first comes to mind when you think of Miss Weasley over there?"  
  
"I would mind," he growled, " but I'll do it anyway. Probably how much I'd love to do certain things that would have to be censored from this conversation with her. Other than that, that I've never seen anyone as drop-dead gorgeous as she is."   
  
Finally, all of the Slytherins but Thomas and Draco were out. Ginny remained as the sole Gryffindor.   
  
"I've an idea," Nott said, and whispered an extensive plan into his friend's ear. A pinkish tinge appeared in Draco's cheeks, but his smile was unmistakable.   
  
Ginny was sprawled on the grass, legs stretched out in front of her. The sudden touch of two cold fingers gave her shivers. They ran up one of her legs, then past her waist, and up her ribs, catching folds of white cloth and bringing the bottom of her shirt up. His eyes were locked on hers, and he knew that this was what he'd been dreaming of. She sat there, letting him, and staring right into his intense, metallic gaze. Pinpoints of ice traced the curve of her neck, savoring the contact that scorched them so unbearably that he couldn't keep hold of her for one more second. His fingers slid into the air deliberately.   
  
"Well," she said, breaking the tangible silence that stretched between them. Her hope that he would carry through with his plan of kissing her had swollen to a dream, haunting her at night with his halt right above her mouth. She couldn't pretend she didn't shiver when he touched her or that his eyes didn't send a creeping sensation of warmth and flattery when she found them focused on her. "Nott, either you tell me why you dared him to do that or you leave."  
  
"See you later, then," he said. Once he was out of earshot, the game resumed.  
  
The words popped out of Draco's mouth before he thought them. "If I gave you the stars, what would you give me in return?"  
  
Ginny's smile became predatory. Her favorite quote rose to the surface of her mind, waiting for her to take the initiative, and she did. It had caught her attention when she'd first read it, both from the situation and the power conveyed by the strategically placed words. Unfolding so elegantly that she could have been a feline instead of a human, she stood, assuming a position that displayed her profile, dark eyes, and long legs. She saw him swallow, but felt his eyes rove over her from top to bottom.   
  
The smile became more pronounced as her voice reverberated through the clearing. "I think you know what I can promise you--sensations you are only dimly aware of--ecstasy, mounting, growing, swelling, bursting, endless and no satiety, no end until you know the crucifixion of love, and scream for the cross, and help to drive the nails, while every nerve, every white, writhing nerve, joins the demonic and whips itself to a rage of exulting and raging passion. You lick your lips. You think you know. What you know is only a whisper beside the pandemonium I promise you."  
  
His breaths came quick and rough. She was the dream-girl. It seemed that the voice of this avenging angel held more earth-shattering power than he'd ever imagined. To hold that power in his arms and bury himself in it, to immerse himself in the aching, fierce beauty that wrapped her in its glory. He stared, gaped, swallowed to wet his dry mouth. And she knew. Her confident smile told him that she knew she had won, because after that speech, he couldn't keep his mind out of the gutter.   
  
Her power faded a bit as she became the gorgeous, skilled fifth year he had dreamed about. "Now," she said, smiling as viciously as a wolf, "I dare you to do what you're thinking of." It was apparent that she thought she would win, because he wouldn't dare do what she knew he was thinking.   
  
She was wrong. "Have you any idea how dangerous that could be?" He asked, regaining his composure. "I could have been thinking about destroying Hogwarts, killing Potter, the Mudblood, and your brother with one curse, raping, then killing you, or even destroying myself. What would I have done if I'd been thinking one of those things?"  
  
"You would have done it," she said coolly, waiting for his refusal.  
  
"I would have," he repeated, nodding. "You may consider yourself unlucky that I wasn't thinking of doing those things, because what I was thinking of will give me such pleasure that it will become my dream to re-create the moment. You, however, will scream and beat against your mind in an effort to escape. But it won't work, because you can't stop me."  
  
By now he had backed her against a tall tree with smooth, worn bark. He didn't see the tree. All he saw was her face. Her smile was gone, replaced by a bland expression of disbelief. Lips quirked into a smirk, she let him look at her, and saw what he was going to do before he did it.   
  
Her smirk disappeared under the controlled, forceful impact of his mouth. Long fingers descended to her waist, where they drew her scorching heat closer to his torso. Legs became a knot, and she stumbled, clinging to his shirt for balance. He took this chance to pull her closer. If he'd thought that he couldn't have been burned more by contact with her, he was wrong. His lips were on fire, dancing across her face and over her mouth. Fireworks exploded in Draco's head, telling him that he would need to breathe sometime soon. He did so quickly, returning to those soft, flaming lips that tasted of chocolate and mint.   
  
She gasped for breath, shocked by the intensity of his kiss. Leaving her mouth half open, Ginny actually allowed his hands to lace all over her back and waist, sending prickles of cold where they'd been. In that half second that her mouth had been open, he'd slid his tongue into her mouth, sandpapering the humid cavern and learning every detail of it. She decided that he shouldn't have to do all the work and curled her tongue around his, unprepared for his returning grip. Her arms went around his neck, almost buried in his white-blond hair. She was chilled to the marrow from the icy shivers her body absorbed from his skin.   
  
Two things hit him at once, neither of which was Ginny's fist (for which he was very thankful). She hadn't tried to murder him, and she was kissing him back. A moan of pleasure escaped his lips. It hurt to have her, but such an ecstatic pain that he craved it. He captured her mouth again, delving deeper and forcing her to the ground. She writhed under his frigid touch, a cold that sent jolts of electricity through her veins. Those pinpoints of frost crept under her shirt, exploring her flat stomach and the lower ribs. Her breath hissed out in an almost-groan as she glued herself to him. His fingers crept lower, to her hips and legs, spreading the cold.   
  
After thirty minutes, during which both of them retained their clothes, he peeled himself off of her mouth with a sigh. She was flat on her back on the ground, hair dishevelled, and breathing hard. He was still over top of her, arms length above with his palms supporting his weight. He wanted to say something, but all he could think of was 'd***, is she good.'   
  
"What," came Ginny's flat voice, "was that?"  
  
Draco smirked and traced the outline of her face with his index finger. "That was me trying to demonstrate that I am horribly infatuated with you."  
  
"You demonstrated all right," she said, still chilled.   
  
"Don't pretend, Ginny. I won't believe you if you say you didn't enjoy that, because I know you did. You-- you're glowing," he finished weakly. And she was. Her silver haze was resting on her skin, bathing her in its glow.  
  
"So are you," she replied calmly. So there was her answer. That was why he--and presumably Harry-- was drawn to her. It was the magic they all had that gave her that sense of power and the magnetism to have Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter want her so badly.   
  
He rolled off and sat up in the grass, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "That quote," he said finally. "Where did it come from?"  
  
"The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights, by John Steinbeck. It was the part where Morgan was seducing Lancelot."  
  
"Right, Morgan and Lancelot. Anything about Arthur in that part?"  
  
"No. Hold on, you're not trying to say that I'm related to Morgan, are you? Because someone's already asked me that, and it's not true."  
  
He ran his hand through his hair again. "Have you heard that old Muggle story about Arthur's return?"  
  
"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "Everyone's heard that. It was prophesied by a witch that if Arthur came again, it would be to save England when it was in horrible trouble. I think she also said that if the legend were re-written something really important would happen."  
  
"Tell me, in the story, did Morgan's seduction work on Lancelot?"   
  
"No," she said with conviction. "He was in love with Guinivere."  
  
"Then we've already started re-writing the legend. I know I've got to be Lancelot, because I've been having these dreams about what just happened. Potter's probably dreaming about Excalibur. What're yours?"  
  
"Morgan's opal, I think. I don't really need it."  
  
"What do you mean, 'I don't really need it?' She couldn't do very much magic without her opal."  
  
"I can."  
  
He stared. No one, he repeated, no one could do magic without their wand. Especially not a petite fifteen-year-old who, he found himself thinking, was definitely equal to Morgan in her power. Maybe even stronger.   
  
She sat up and tried to tame her curls with a few hand combings. It didn't work. Sighing and nervously pulling down the hem of her shirt, she turned over the recent events. It was amazing how he had gone from a lusty teenage boy to a scholar in a matter of seconds. His apparent comfort with the Arthurian legend was reassuring, but he was staring at her as though she'd suddenly grown horns.   
  
"Show me," he said quietly. He wouldn't believe that she could do what she indicated until he had solid proof.  
  
Ginny had to think a moment before she came up with a spell. Not really a spell, but an exercise she'd been working on from one of the towers, it involved shaping her magic outside of her body. With little effort, a perfect sphere balanced on her index finger. Luminescent, glittering with scintilla of magic, it sent off the unmistakable sense of skill that its creater emanated. Slowly, deliberately, it rose above her head. She wasn't even focused on it. Her eyes were on Draco's and her hands were on her hips.   
  
The glowing orb left a trail of sparks in the air above Ginny's head. It hovered at the same height as the tree, then exploded into a shower of light particles that blazed and landed in her hair, burning with magic that didn't catch anything on fire. His mouth hung open. She had done it with such ease that it could have been any ordinary task, like tying her shoes or brushing her teeth. Most sorcerers had to stare at their magic to get it to do anything, and even Morgan had pointed at things. She had done neither, and stood, basking in the glow of her success, without any sign of exertion.  
  
She reached out and shut his mouth with the light shove upwards of her crooked index finger. "Believe me now?"  
  
He rubbed his jaw where the very finger that had upheld the ball of light had touched him. "Holy crap" was all he could say. "How the hell did you do that?"  
  
"I can't explain it. I just did." She shrugged, as though those sorts of things happened to her every day. "And what was that about the legend already having been re-written? Nothing's happened yet."  
  
"Weasley, if that wasn't seduction, I don't know the meaning of the word. Even if you weren't trying to affect me, it sure as hell worked." He looked slightly bitter, like he didn't want to admit that he'd fallen for someone. "Anyway, as long as you don't let Potter--erm--do anything, there will be no Sir Mordred to worry about, and then his reign won't be disrupted."  
  
Ginny went red at the mention of Sir Mordred. "You have a point. I don't plan on letting that b****** get anywhere near enough to do that, so worry not, Sir Best Knight. No one shall steal me from your arms."  
  
"Not for lack of trying," he responded. It was all part of the game, but he planned on winning.  
  
Disclaimer: Oohh! She chose, and now poor Harry's left in the dust. Good riddance, I say. He was way too cocky and deserved a comeuppance. This is supposed to be a disclaimer, right? Mighty JKR owns everybody, and Sir Thomas Malory and John Steinbeck own the Arthurian legend. Next chapter: they come up with a unique way to publicize their relationship. REVIEW OR NO MORE MAGIC HAPPENS AT THIS KEYBOARD! 


	17. Torture

Legend  
Chapter XVII: Torture  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
Draco made his appearance in the Slytherin common room at just before dinner time. His hair had never calmed down after Ginny's hands had run through it and his robes were crumpled from her proximity. Pansy had tears in her eyes when she saw him. She could tell that there was another girl, another girl who must have kept her Draco very busy in their unbearably long separation of forty minutes.   
  
"How was she?" Thomas asked.  
  
A smile played around the edges of his mouth. "Amaz--hey, hold it, how did you...?"  
  
Nott grinned. "Unless you've started wearing makeup, Ginny had on some lipstick when you made your attempt. Your clothes aren't quite immaculate, either."  
  
Realizing how he looked, a smug expression on his face became more pronounced. "I think I'll stay like this," he said. "Potter won't be able to prevent himself from questioning what happened during his absence, and when he finds out, I'll make myself scarce."  
  
"You're not afraid of him, are you?"  
  
That comment stuck like a barb under his skin. "No one calls me a coward," he said coolly. "No one who wants to live, that is. Would you like to rephrase that?"  
  
"No," the other answered. "If you plan on making yourself scarce, you don't want to confront him when he's angry. That would imply that you're afraid of him when he's furious."  
  
"Is that a challenge?" Cold grey eyes glittered. "Are you daring me to let him see me with her?"  
  
"I must admit, it would be an interesting scene to watch. Imagine the look on his face! It would be hilarious to see."  
  
The razor-sharp edge left Draco's voice. "You have a point. A good one, for what it's worth. I accept your challenge with pleasure, Nott."  
  
*  
  
Hair in her eyes and tumbling all over her shoulders, Ginny entered the Gryffindor common room to the bemused glances of her peers. She didn't stop for questions, just sashayed her way up to the stairs separating the girls' dormitories from the warm, comfortable cavern.   
  
  
"Who's the lucky fella, Gin?" Seamus called loudly, having realized that her beauty would never belong to him. Dean gave her a wistful look and went back to his daydreams, not expecting an answer.  
  
She gave one, however. "Wouldn't you like to know," she laughed, almost tossing the words into the room as she exited. In a moment the room was silent again, but only because the inseparable friends were puzzling over the identity of the mystery man who had been lucky enough to get the youngest Weasley.   
  
Her friends' reactions were slightly different. "What happened?" Frances asked in response to the redhead's entrance and flop onto her bed.   
  
"My first kiss happened," she grinned, displaying straight white teeth. Holding her pillow in her arms and using to cushion her head, she recounted the events in her head. Draco was amazing. Nothing more, nothing less. He was enough to make even Morgan Le Fay come crawling. Then again, he probably thought the same of her, but she was enough to make the emotionless, stony Slytherin beg on his knees. He would be allowed to stand up as long as he initiated a repeat performance. Not rough, but not gentle, not perverted, but not uninterested in her figure. He was perfect.  
  
"I thought Harry had--" Ingrid started, unwilling to finish her sentence.  
  
A powerful glare came out of the formerly innocent eyes. "He did, but I meant the first kiss in which I was a voluntary participant. Potter grabbed me and nearly shoved me off the balcony, but Draco warned me before backing me into a tree."  
  
"Hold it," Frances said. "You didn't say Draco, did you? Tell me you didn't just say Draco."  
  
"I would, but that would be a lie." She grinned evilly, rolling over onto her back and stretching her arms out to the sides.  
  
"M-M-Malfoy?" Ingrid sputtered in disbelief. "Draco *Malfoy?*"  
  
Gin rolled her eyes. "How many Dracos are there? Yes, Draco Malfoy!"  
  
Her two friends sat down hard, Ingrid on her bed and Frances on the floor, gaping at the redhead. Malfoy was unattainable for everyone. He was gorgeous, they couldn't deny it, but he was so cold, so superior. No one could get him to look at them twice. Apparently Ginny had melted his icy facade. Somehow, neither one was surprised. They had noticed her sneaking looks at the Slytherin table before, but that was explained away with her coaching duties.   
  
Frances finally spoke. "Let me get this straight," she said flatly. "Draco Malfoy--*the* Draco Malfoy-- kissed you?"  
  
  
"Malfoy kissed whom?" Hermione asked, poking her head inside the door. Her eyebrows knitted together in concern when a smugly smiling Ginny sat up.  
  
"He's very good at it," she said without remorse. "And easier to deal with than Harry."  
  
It was Hermione's turn to sit down. She conjured herself a chair and plopped into it, staring. What was she going to tell Ron? More importantly, what was she going to tell Harry?!  
  
Ingrid got to the point before Hermione could find her voice. "Are you going to tell him?"  
  
"Tell whom? Harry?" She snorted in disdain. "Why should I tell Potter?"  
  
"Well, you're going out with him, aren't you?" Her friend said.  
  
She shot upwards in fury, but her voice was calm. "Where did you get that idea? I guarantee you, it isn't true. I have a mind to let him find out for himself."  
  
Hermione smiled inwardly. As much as she liked Harry, he had been uncontrollable when it came to Ginny, and her method of demonstration was just what he needed. It would be quite funny to see the expression on the Boy Who Lived's face when he caught his arch-nemesis with his best friend's sister. As long as she wasn't there for the aftermath, it would be worth it.  
  
*  
  
Draco couldn't keep his eyes off her. The candles floating above the table sent a soft, glittering light onto the objects below, adding a golden tinge to the russet curls and putting an iridescent sparkle in her eyes as she argued good-naturedly with her friends. Little did he know that he was being observed as well. She was sneaking looks at Draco, her Draco, when she wasn't shivering from his stares. Those metallic eyes were unwavering in the strong, handsome face framed by silvery hair. A sigh of pleasure bubbled up in her mind. Perfect.  
  
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Thomas urged for the umpteenth time that evening.   
  
He was fed up. "I'll do it when I'm ready, and not before." With that, he stood up and stalked towards the doorway. Had he been paying more attention, he would have seen Ginny before he walked into her.  
  
"Exc- oh," she said, smiling. Her arms went around his neck in a hug, but he had different ideas. Before she could completely release him, he kissed her for the second time that day.  
  
  
He felt her go completely stiff in his arms at the first brush of his mouth, but relax instantaneously. Heat, glorious heat, spread all over him, starting from his neck, hands, and lips. She let him pull her in closer, keeping a tight hold around his neck. The first few minutes were completely his, savoring the fire stemming from her skin and leaving the imprint of his mouth over hers.  
  
At the High Table, Professor McGonagall saw a confident Slytherin draw the youngest Weasley into his hold and place his lips over hers. "Snape," she snapped. "Your student is harrassing Weasley!"  
  
"Well that's--" he had been about to reply that Draco always bothered Ron, that it was just something he did, but changed his words when he realized which Weasley McGonagall had been indicating. "--unusual," he finished weakly. He had no complaints. Draco didn't seem to either.  
  
"Minerva, I wouldn't worry about those two," Dumbledore added, smiling. "They seem quite content. I would, however, keep an eye on Mr. Potter whenever Mr. Malfoy is nearby. He may attempt to murder him."  
  
Looking at his least favourite student, Snape had to admit that Dumbledore seemed to be correct. There was a murderous look in the Gryffindor's eyes. It registered in Snape's mind, and he winced inwardly. This was an almost complete repeat of what had happened in his sixth year, except it had been James Potter, God d*** the b*****, stealing his girl. And he'd never gotten her back. Lily. The name still made him shiver in ecstasy. She had been gorgeous, in the same way that the youngest Weasley was gorgeous, and had captured his attention the way Ginny seemed to have captured everyone's attention. But Potter had gotten her, and he'd been left out, gaping in fury whenever he saw her with Potter's arm around her waist.   
  
Dumbledore looked at his Potions Master. "Does this look familiar to you, Severus?"  
  
"Yes, only Potter's on the outside of it now," he said quietly, trying not to voice the satisfaction that struggled to escape.   
  
"Have a talk with Mr. Malfoy, would you? Ask him to try not to rub it in too much."  
  
Snape shook his head. "I think it's too late for that, Headmaster."  
  
It had been a quick kiss, but Draco was content. He peeled himself away reluctantly, smiling at her expression of catlike smugness. Nott, too, would be grinning. Potter had had his comeuppance.  
  
Hand still around Ginny's waist, he steered her towards the door. "I want to go to the library," he whispered into her ear. "We need to do research."  
  
"MALFOY!"   
  
Harry's voice echoed throughout the Great Hall. Those few who hadn't already looked up in amazement did so, shocked to see the tall, slender Gryff visibly shaking with fury.  
  
  
"Let go of her," he said. "*NOW.*" Emerald eyes smouldered in fury behind glasses that couldn't block a death-glare.   
  
"Jealous?" The words leapt out of his mouth.  
  
You have no idea how much, Harry's mind screamed. She was mine! She didn't consent to that, she didn't. You forced her. You and your evil ways, making her submit to you. Don't touch her! Don't spoil her perfection with your filth! The mental screams died down, giving way to a sob of anguish. He knew Ginny had enjoyed showing him up. It tore at him, but not in a way that hurt his mind or heart. He hadn't loved her, not really. He had wanted her, true, but nothing more than that. It still ripped him up, because he'd actually made himself believe she was falling for him.  
  
"Harry, what are you yelling about?" Ron asked, having just recently come downstairs. He noticed, a bit belatedly, that his worst enemy was holding his sister around the waist. "What the Hell is this?"  
  
"Ron," Ginny said clearly, "meet my boyfriend. Draco, this is Ron. I think you two know each other, but be civil, all right?"  
  
"We d*** well know each other! Not one day has gone by when he hasn't said something about our having no money or being shabby and unworthy of magic. Not one day!"  
  
Harry looked at Ron. "Now you see why I was yelling!"  
  
"You still are," Ginny muttered. She felt Draco chuckle and hold her more tightly, fingers splayed across the side of her stomach.   
  
"I was yelling more, though, because that b****** just grabbed her and kissed her!" He continued furiously.  
  
"Liar," she said loudly. "I hugged him first. If you leave out those details, yeah, he did something wrong. If you don't, it makes more sense. Of course, you haven't any sense, so I shouldn't have been talking about that."  
  
"Am I not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?" Draco drawled. "That's what I did, and it seems to be quite within the rules to do so."  
  
Harry almost exploded. "It's the principle of the thing! She was mine!" All of his opponent's arguments were good, and he had nothing. It just couldn't be right, though. A Slytherin couldn't have her! It went against everything he knew. She was too sexy to belong to a Slyth, so Malfoy couldn't have her.  
  
  
He felt Ginny stiffen. "Excuse me," she said, voice icy. "I was never yours. I never will be yours. Get used to it, Potter. You can't always have everything you want. For example, at the moment I'd dearly love to knock your head off. Considering that all the teachers are watching us, I don't think that'd be such a good idea. I won't, but I will do something else to show you how yours I'm not."   
  
She whipped around and kissed Draco hard. His hands fell to her waist and back, burning with her heat. Her tongue seared the inside of his mouth, teasing a moan from somewhere deep inside his throat. It was the first time she'd been the one to kiss him, not the other way around, and she wanted to make it memorable. Her upper body was flat against his. She stood flat-footed, head turned up to make her mouth more within reach. Ice trickled down her spine from his fingers and she shivered with ecstasy, burying herself in his hold. When he finally decided he could live with parting from her, it was deliberate, to hurt those watching who might not approve.  
  
"If you've quite finished," Dumbledore said laughingly. At least, they thought he wasn't angry. A sparkle in the corner of his eye gave away his amusement.  
  
Bending his head until it was right near Ginny's ear, Draco whispered huskily "I haven't even gotten started." His slim digits crept up the small of her back to her neck, where they rested lightly, a reminder that he was there to back her up.   
  
She didn't need his support."I think you get the message, Harry."  
  
Harry Potter, Hogwarts' Golden Boy, watched what he had wished was his walk away enticingly, hips swinging, with his worst enemy. That enemy grinned smugly, knowing that he had caused the Gryffindor the ultimate torture.  
  
Disclaimer: Ha! Ha Ha Ha! I love D/G! JKR owns the characters and the places they talk and do things (not *those* things, BloodRedInk), but I own their conversations, actions, and romances. If someone wants that last one, be my guest. The real plot has yet to be unveiled, though you all get the idea. I hope. Next chapter: Ginny has a chat with Harry about his new identity. REVIEW OR I'LL DO SOMETHING THAT I'M TOO TIRED TO THINK OF RIGHT NOW! 


	18. Searching

Legend  
Chapter XVIII: Searching  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
The only private time Draco and Ginny had was when they were supposed to be practising their athletic endeavours. Neither really cared if they stopped using the practise sessions, as they had been very fit and healthy in the first place. To avoid suspicion from any professors looking out the castle's many windows, they stretched and talked at the same time.  
  
She touched her toes and felt her hamstrings loosen a little bit. "How're we supposed to verify that Harry has the magic?" Coming up slowly and bending backwards from the waist, she added "I mean, we're only pretty sure. Shouldn't we be positive before anything happens?" Her stomach was tight, meaning she had gone as far back as she could. She came back to an upright position.  
  
"Before what happens? We haven't any idea what we're supposed to end up doing." He stood on one foot, holding the opposite ankle next to his behind so his knee could be even with the other one. Sounds complicated, but it wasn't. It was just a good quad stretch.  
  
Crossing her right arm over her torso to loosen her deltoid, she replied "We're here to defeat Voldemort. How we do it is up to us. Whatever we do, we need Harry's help. I think he's the only one who can wield Excalibur, and if that sword were given magical power, it would be a major asset." She stretched the other arm, then sat on the grass in butterfly position.  
  
He joined her in butterfly position. "I need a sword too. Really, what sort of knight doesn't have a sword? If I'm to be the best knight, shouldn't I have one of the best swords?"  
  
"You should, but I don't know where to get yours."  
  
"And you know where Excalibur is?" He asked sarcastically.  
  
Switching to the straddle splits, she answered his question disdainfully. "Yes."  
  
"WHAT?!" Draco turned his head so quickly that he felt something click. "I take it you know where Morgan's opal is as well?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do. I was chatting with one of the really old portraits in Gryffindor Tower when I first discovered I could do the wandless magic thing. She told me that Godric had been a bit of a nut about the Arthurian legend--"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Godric was a nut about everything."  
  
  
"--and had collected a lot of relics from that time period. He then hid them in the nerve centre of his wing, and that's where they are today. We just need to find them, because she as good as told me Excalibur and Morgan's opal were there." Now in the full splits, Ginny sighed and stretched out her arm to touch the toe of her front foot.  
  
"Should I even try that one?" He asked, indicating her position.  
  
"No." She unfolded to stand up beside him, grinning. "I think it would be too much for you."   
  
His mock-glare gave her shivers. "Hey! I'll get you for that."  
  
"You have to catch me first."  
  
"Is that your way of saying 'come get me'?" He asked, watching her dash around the far edge of the track.  
  
Finishing her first lap, she grinned and added "To put it plainly, come get me!"  
  
That was a challenge he wanted to meet. "All right, then," he muttered, taking long strides towards the little red ponytail bobbing up and down in front of him like the carrot in front of the donkey who needed to be bribed to walk. He definitely didn't need to be bribed to catch up with Ginny. Speeding up, he managed to cover just enough ground to run alongside of her. A long arm snaked around her waist and pinned her to his side, preventing her from running any farther. She skidded to a stop before her rapidity dragged Draco along with her.  
  
"I said 'come get me,' not 'stop me,'" she teased. Before anything more could be said, he held her in his arms and was running hard to finish the lap. Every step thudded against the packed track. She jounced up and down in his arms, distracting his vision with a flash of red in his eyes and a silky curl against his jaw. Keep your eyes on the prize, he thought, but it was difficult to discern the prize from his two choices. Was it his girl or the end of the track? Her long legs stretched out in a relaxed line, and he made his decision. Having finally reached the starting point, his attention immediately switched to Gin. He let her stand up, not expecting an exit of any particular caliber. Her weight pressed against his chest in a line descending towards the ground. Strong fingers trailed across his shoulders. For a moment they stood like that, together with a vengeance, before she stepped aside to let him catch his breath.  
  
"Tell me, are there any empty bedrooms in Gryffindor Tower?" He asked with a lopsided grin.  
  
"They're all full as soon as the common room empties."  
  
"You Gryffindors really don't waste time, do you?"  
  
"No," she said playfully, grinning in such a devilish manner that his breath caught in his throat, "we don't."  
  
*  
  
Since the recent Great Hall incident, as the Gryffindors were wont to call it, Harry had gotten much closer to Ron and Hermione. His attention had all been on Ginny before, so once he managed to get himself to realize that she was spoken for, he started spending more times with his oldest and best friends. They had welcomed him back into the fold readily.  
  
Now they sat, much like they used to, at a table in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's books and scrolls of notes took up practically the whole table, covering it in a mound of papers that was impossible to see through. Maybe, Ron joked, they could bury Hermione in all of her papers and they wouldn't have to listen to her lectures anymore. All this earned him, however, was a long lecture on the virtues of preparation and good study skills. He stuck his tongue out at her when she continued working and wasn't looking his way.   
  
Everything seemed much like it had been, but it wasn't. Harry was still plagued by dreams of a shimmering sword that sliced through air, hopefully the last remnant of that silver magic. He knew it wasn't the last trace of his magic, though he wanted so much to believe it that   
he nearly did. There were other things he didn't want to believe. Like Ginny. She couldn't like Draco bloody Malfoy better than the Boy Who Lived, she just couldn't. Things didn't work like that. Ron didn't care; he stuck by what he'd said before. Even Malfoy could have her if he didn't try to take advantage of her. Well, he hadn't taken advantage of her, so he could have her. She certainly seemed to agree with that, so there were no objections to be made, except by Harry, who was biased.  
  
He moaned softly. "Ron, your sister's torturing me."  
  
"How so?" Hermione had a very good idea of how this had been accomplished, but asked for her friend's benefit.  
  
"Every time I see her she's with Malfoy, and every time, every single time, he's got his arm around her waist or shoulders. Either that or they're holding hands. It's driving me crazy!"  
  
Ron looked down at him, annoyed. "We've been over this. He's her boyfriend. He's allowed. You, however, are not."  
  
"Consider yourself on probation," Hermione supplied. "You committed a slight crime, were duly punished, and now have to be on your best behaviour before she decides whether or not she can trust you."  
  
"Whether or not I can trust whom?" Ginny knew they had been talking about her. It was written all over their faces in almost permanent marker.  
  
Harry gave a wolfish grin and said "Speak of the Devil."  
  
"I am far from the Devil, Potter. I'd like to speak with you for a moment, if you have the time."  
  
  
Hermione and Ron raised their eyebrows. She had seemed so happy with Malfoy. Had she changed her mind, or had he changed his? Or, even stranger, did this have nothing at all to do with Malfoy?  
  
"Sure," he replied, then paused, waiting for her to speak.  
  
"Privately," she added. "Unless you'd like everyone to hear what I'm about to say."   
  
"Maybe I would."  
  
She glared viciously. "Trust me, you would not enjoy the experience."  
  
With a casual shrug, he stood up, leaving his chair away from the table, and followed her. They wove around the tables and armchairs, not stopping, not speaking. Her mouth was set in a thin line in an unreadable face that blocked any emotions from being seen. Harry, however, had had an adrenaline rush, giving him energy to deal with whatever she said or did. His nerves were on edge, waiting for something unusual to happen, as it generally did when Ginny was around. She led him out to the Gryffindor balcony, then spelled the door.   
  
A silvery haze covered their one exit, then vanished. He could tell it was soundproof from the lack of noise coming from the common room. By the time he had gotten himself to acknowledge that she had done a spell too advanced for even the seventh years, there was an invisible barrier around them.  
  
"What is this?" He finally managed in outrage. "You dragged me out here on the pretext of talking to me, then created such a complicated sound-blocking layer that not even the Head Girl could have done it. Do you just not want anyone to hear?"  
  
"If they heard, we would die," she said flatly. "No one must know."   
  
He rolled his eyes. "Talk about melodramatic. Is this just a complicated way of getting my attention? If it is, it's working, because I'm already paying attention to the fact that you must be insane!"  
  
She ignored his insult and sat, relaxed, on the railing. "You've been having dreams." Her eyes were the only visible light, narrowed to a glowing spark. "Dreams about a sword. Make no mistake, it isn't an ordinary sword. It won't go away until you hold it in your hand and listen to its song." Harry was tense. She could see it in the way he was standing and the way he clutched the railing with both hands. "On the first night of school this year," she hazarded, "you awoke after a dream about this sword. You were glowing, and you still have that glow. It's in your blood. You can't get rid of it."  
  
"Who the Hell are you and what've you done with Ginny?" He shouted. Regaining his composure, he added softly "How did you know? I didn't tell anyone."  
  
  
"I know from experience. Look at the barrier, Harry. It's silver, like the glow you saw. It is an exact copy of the glow you saw, but it's my magic. You know what else? You can search me. I *don't have my wand*. I don't need my wand anymore. You don't need it either, because that glow is magic."  
  
"How? For a spell that complicated you have to have your wand." He checked her pockets, her lower back, and underneath her hair. His hand slid around to her front and crept under the hem of her shirt, but halted immediately when hers slammed over his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.  
  
"Don't even think about it," she hissed. Harry's arms went back to his sides, and she continued her explanation. "There are three of us with the magic. It's not the magic that's important though, it's what the magic signifies."  
  
"Three of us? You and I make two; who's the third?"  
  
Her eyes danced. "Draco. You've heard the legend about King Arthur's return, haven't you?"  
  
"Yes, but what does that have to do with the magic and the dreams?"  
  
"Everything. You see, Arthur's back."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"I'm looking right at him."  
  
*  
  
The common room was empty for once, and black as pitch. A dying fire cast the only natural light, creating more shadows to play tricks on the imagination. Softly glittering, a ball of silver fire hovered above Ginny's head. Her hair was laced with threads of silvery gray from the light it made. She crept silently towards the fireplace, every step cautious and deliberate. Harry walked behind her, blending into the night except for his luminous green eyes and glasses reflecting the sheen of her magic. He kept walking after she'd stopped, and connected solidly with her back. Her glare was obvious even in the dark, but she didn't make a sound.  
  
"Are you going to do it?" Harry whispered in a barely audible voice.   
  
Her response was to raise her arms into a high "V" and stretch her hands out. Magic poured out in waves, dyeing the common room a brilliant silver. Its sparks wove into a rope, swirling around like a lasso that tried to capture its source. Ginny wasn't caught, but the fire was. Her magic captured it in a blaze of light, both silver and real, and lifted it clear of the fireplace. A passageway was revealed in the remaining glow.  
  
  
"Go," she said softly. "Go if you want Excalibur."   
  
He nodded determinedly, walking forwards with his head bent. Even Ginny was cramped in the small space, but she didn't complain. Silence was necessary, and she would keep quiet even if there were a Death Eater at the other end. As it was, she didn't feel the need to restrain a yelp when the fire fell back into place and sent the shadows forwards into their destination. There was no yelp to restrain, except in Harry's case. The fire warmed her back, a reminder of their starting point and what they had waiting for them in the common room. Family, friends, comfort, warmth, and an escape from the gruesome reality were back behind them, and every footfall brought them farther and farther away from happy ignorance. They could have had no idea about Arthur's return, the Old Magick, their fate to destroy Voldemort, or lying to their loved ones. But they had all the idea in the world, because someone had chosen them to carry the weight for everyone else. It wasn't as though everyone else didn't have many worries, because they did, but they didn't have destiny hanging in front of their noses. She shook her head a moment before she walked into Harry, who had stopped in front of a thick oaken door.  
  
"Ouch," he whispered. "Now what?"  
  
"Now you open the door," Ginny hissed exasperatedly.  
  
He put his hand on the doorknob reluctantly, steeling his nerves, and turned in a rapid turn of the wrist. The door swung open squeakily, which was to be expected, as it hadn't been used in more than one thousand years.   
  
"I have to admit, I expected something more than that," Harry grinned sheepishly, still speaking in a low voice. She nodded her agreement, pushing him gently into the room.  
  
With a flick of her wrist the chamber was illuminated by a yellowish glow. Harry didn't have to look very hard for a sword; a midnight blue velvet cushion complemented the perfect metallic sheen of Excalibur. He walked forward as though seeing an illusion, hesitating before closing his hand around the glittering hilt. The instant he touched it a bolt of power connected the two. Watching from the entranceway, Ginny couldn't tell whether his magic accepted Excalibur or Excalibur accepted Harry. All she knew was that the triumphant grin flashing on his face would have made her weak in the knees if she'd still fancied him. His eyes shone with the power of success.   
  
A deep, mature voice that wasn't his came from deep in his throat. "I, Arthur, son of Uther, dub thee Excalibur. Serve faithfully and well."  
  
"Amen," she whispered reverently, her sharp eyes catching the flash of silver that raced down the blade and revealed a tall, strong teenager as England's greatest hero. Now scanning the room for her prize, she checked the corners and walls for any sign of a jewelry box or stand.   
  
  
"Ginny," Harry said softly, "look over here." His hand rested on a table, on which a jewelry box lined with the same midnight blue velvet lay open. Gleaming silver was pulled taut by the perfectly round opal. Green, blue, pink, and yellow fires caught the light and reflected it across the opal's dark surface. Captivated, she walked forwards and stroked the icy stone. A shock, accompanied by a bolt of silver, ran through her finger, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she carried part of Morgan le Fay. Catching her breath, she flicked the lock of a smaller box that was next to the open one and saw a signet, glittering and perfect, with an elaborate "M" engraved into the centre. Without a moment's hesitation she slipped it onto her right ring finger, swallowing a gasp as the metal touched her warm skin, and realized that this was what her hand had been waiting for. Every time she'd gone to a party she'd wished for a ring, and now she had one that was exclusively hers. So hers, in fact, that it had waited one thousand years for her to reclaim it.  
  
"Aren't you going to wear the necklace?" He asked.   
  
Typical male question, she thought. Snapping the box shut, she sighed in pleasure. Not yet. She needed to have the right person put it around her neck, and she didn't think Harry was that person.   
  
"Not right now. I want to try to develop my magic without it first, because it could be taken away and I don't want to be helpless." Her eyes were wide in amazement as the full significance of her discovery hit her. Eyelids flickering to conceal narrowing, vindictive eyes, she grinned viciously. "Voldemort, I will avenge myself. This I swear by the power of Morgan le Fay and my own, you will not live to hurt me again." 


	19. Sir Best Knight

Legend  
Chapter XIX: Sir Best Knight  
by Marie McKinnon  
  
A/N: Anyone who listens to CoS on tape will hear that Ginny's eyes are green. I was about to apologise for having read it wrong, but I checked, and they're brown (CoS pg. 35, UK edition), so there's really no reason for this note, is there?  
  
*  
  
Ginny sat on the huge stone steps of Hogwarts, playing with the chain of her opal. Warm sunlight beat down on her hair, giving it an even more firelike tinge. A pure-white cotton-candy cloud floated in front of the sun so she could have a temporary rest from its rays. Noticing the lack of sunlight, her eyes flicked skyward, but before getting there were captured by a pair of metallic ones. Instead of seeming surprised, she gave him a calm smile and kept turning the chain over and over in her hands.  
  
"You found it," he breathed, sliding onto the step beside her. "What about Excalibur?"   
  
"I think Harry had a job hiding it, but we've got it."  
  
Draco was speechless for a moment. He stared, mesmerized, at the flickering colors embedded in the opal. Only his token was left. Ginny had her opal, Harry had his sword, and he had nothing. Well, liquid assetts and power wouldn't help him defeat the most evil wizard to ever threaten mankind. She leaned on his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly. During that milisecond he saw everything he wanted to save and knew, without any disagreement, that he had to defeat Voldemort. Protecting those moments when his sweetheart could lean on him, shut her eyes, and forget that she had destiny hanging over her head was so important to him that before he realized it, his arm was draped over her side.   
  
She smiled into his shoulder. This was what she was fighting for. Not defeating evil or winning glory and fame, but being able to relax with him, whoever he was. Every her had a him she wanted to win or keep, and if Voldemort won, no him would ever hold his her gently or kindly again. Snuggling closer, she envisioned her vengeance, then found herself wondering if her power would make her evil. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, her mind told her. I won't let it, she responded. If I have someone to love, evil can't touch me. And I have so many people to love. Her thoughts had brought her out of the hazy doze, and she sighed, sitting up and resuming her study of the opal.  
  
"Let me put it on you," he said softly, closing a hand over hers and gently pulling the pendant out of her grip.   
  
  
Facing away to make it easier for Draco to do the clasp, she sucked in her breath involuntarily. Cold, smooth silver glided over the sensitive skin on her neck. It slid to the base of her neck, dangling lightly against her collarbone. His delicate fingers moved nimbly and deliberately behind her. Finally finished, he allowed the chain to slither down until the opal hung right above the neckline of her shirt. She touched it hesitantly, stroked it, and smiled fiercely as her power surged towards the gem. It was only with much restraint that she kept most of the magic in her blood. She didn't want to rely on the opal for her power, she just wanted it to enhance her abilities and maybe strengthen her magic when she used it. With a thought she focused a tiny ball of light through the gem, watching tensely as the magic formed itself into a glittering sphere. Extending slowly, a hesitant finger prodded its side. Ginny bit her lip to prevent the screech of shock from escaping. It looked the same as it always had, but it was so much stronger! She absorbed the magic again and could tell that just by adding that little bit she could handle maybe one more complicated spell.  
  
"Good God," she whispered. "It's like the opal put a multi-vitamin in my magic. It's amazingly strong."   
  
"Did you do anything -- I don't know-- different when you took the magic back?"  
  
Ginny looked puzzled. "No, why? Am I glowing or something?" She looked at her hands and arms, but they were the same golden colour as they always had been.  
  
"It's just that the magic came out of the opal, but when you took it back it went into your blood again. I would've thought you'd put all of your power in the opal."  
  
"If I did that I'd be asking for trouble. What if someone took the opal and my wand? I wouldn't be able to do anything at all, and if we were captured, that would be a bit of a problem, don't you think?"  
  
"True," he said, looking her over. She seemed different. The opal gave her an even more powerful aura than she'd had before. Powerful or not, she was beautiful, with her fiery curls, smooth skin, and enticing smile. She wasn't writhing uncomfortably under his stare, but he could tell that she was wondering what he was doing. "I just wanted to look at you for a moment," he explained.  
  
"You've not done that in a while," she responded sarcastically He always stared at her for a few seconds, taking in every part of her, before he took her books or belongings so she wouldn't have to carry them.   
  
He pulled her closer until she was almost nose to nose with him. "You know what else we've not done in a while?" Letting the question hang in the air, he gave her a heart-stopping smile and prayed that his heart would stop jumping out of his chest.  
  
"Enlighten me," she said, although she knew very well what he meant.  
  
His hands slid down her sides to her waist, making her shiver slightly. She linked her arms behind his neck and felt him relax when her heat touched his skin. In less than the time it takes to write it, he was kissing her. It was a gentle kiss, not so frantic and passionate, but very sweet. She had been prepared for something very different, and when he pressed down very softly, she practically melted in his arms. His hands burned with her heat as his mouth trailed down to the base of her neck. Coming back to her lips for another sweet kiss, he felt her relax completely.   
  
  
They separated deliberately, as slowly as possible, and Ginny's contented expression urged him to kiss her until he was too tired to move his head. Her eyes had more sparkle in them than they'd had when he'd met her on the steps.   
  
Draco put his arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the castle. "Let's go inside. We're not going to find my sword out here."  
  
"You're brilliant!"  
  
"Thank you, but what--" He looked more befuddled than his two ignorant henchmen combined when the girl dragged him in the direction of the lake.  
  
"I know where your sword is! It's been right here in front of us for years, I'm so stupid!"  
  
Now looking at the lake, he stared at her with confusion written all over his face. "It's in the lake?"  
  
"No it's-- yes it is, what am I saying?" She threw her hands up to a high "v," palms outward, and planted her feet solidly on the ground. "Watch and learn," Gin said cockily. Her hair whipped backwards in a wind that didn't seem to affect anything else as a silvery haze enveloped her. "MY LADY OF THE LAKE!"  
  
The surface of the lake bubbled violently, the powers in its depths seemingly in turmoil. "RETURN TO ME THE TOKEN OF SIR BEST KNIGHT, LANCELOT DU LAKE!" Its smooth facade broke into thrashing waves, then formed itself into a powerful whirlpool rising steadily into the air.   
  
A watery sprite was revealed as the maelstrom fell away. Her black locks literally swam about her pale face, framing the ovaline shape, aqua eyes, and deep red mouth. Clothed in the frothy spray of the ocean, she rippled with the laziness of a slow-running stream.   
  
Ginny's shout, though powerful in a reckless way, was no match for the Lady of the Lake's deep, reverberating reply. "Who demands it?"  
  
"VIRGINIA WEASLEY!"  
  
Her rebuke was disappointing. "There is no Virginia Weasley."  
  
Draco elbowed her. "She wants you to say you're Morgan," he whispered.  
  
"I DEMAND IT! MORGANA LE FAY COMMANDS YOU TO RELINQUISH YOUR TREASURE!"   
  
Head bowed, the Lady of the Lake slipped back into the water. Moments later a shining sword burst free of the water and slowly but surely floated to Draco, who had his arms outstretched as if he were dreaming. It came to rest at his feet.   
  
*   
  
Looking out of the window of his office, Dumbledore spotted the Lady of the Lake rising out of her domain. His vision switched to the land around the lake and was not surprised to see Virginia and Draco. A few tense moments later, a sword lay on the ground in front of the Slytherin.   
  
"So it has begun," he said softly, then began composing a message.  
  
*  
  
Draco saluted the lake with his sword, then studied it. Its blade was razor sharp and silver, as was the hilt, which fit perfectly into his hand. An emerald sparkled in the pommel.  
  
"I dub thee Fear," he said in a deep, powerful voice that belonged to Lancelot du Lake. "You pierce the strongest armor and cut through the bravest exterior. Serve honorably and well."  
  
"Amen," Ginny whispered. It was a bit unorthodox for someone to name their sword "fear," but he had a point. Fear was a far more powerful weapon that a sword, and whoever wielded it had half won the battle already.  
  
He turned on his heel, still carrying the sword, and marched up to the castle. An invisibility spell from behind him stole Fear from sight, but he didn't care whether or not everyone saw him with it. He was going to find the bloody Gryffindor and show him exactly why he was the best knight.  
  
Disclaimer: That was quick, wasn't it? I don't own Harry Potter. All names, ideas, and related indicia are copyright J.K. ROWLING (take that, Warner Brothers), and since she and I are different people, I don't own any of it. Please review, even if you don't like it. Next: they duel. Will Excalibur save Harry, or will Fear triumph? Find out next time, on "Legend, part 19!" 


	20. Awareness

Legend Chapter XX: Awareness by Marie McKinnon  
  
A/N: Because ffnet is being such an almighty pain (no offense meant, of course), this has taken three times as long to put up as it would have. It was ready before I left for camp, but it's very difficult to post a new chapter when the website refuses to show up on your computer. Heck, it's been ready for two months now, but you get to read it anyway.  
  
Draco stalked up to Gryffindor Tower determinedly. The expression on his face was so stern and terrifying that no one, not even the professors, questioned him or the fact that he seemed to be clutching the top of something that was not there. He climbed the stairs, each step echoing on the marble steps. Crowds of students made way for him as though he were Moses parting the Red Sea.  
  
He had nearly reached the portrait of the Fat Lady when Ginny caught up and practically shoved him against the wall. "You are not going to march in there and shout for Harry to come out with Excalibur. That's ludicrous. We'd all be killed or shipped off to Saint Mungo's. After I get Harry, we will leave and find somewhere for you two to duel. Do you understand?"  
  
A slight incline of the head was all the response she got. He was promptly turned invisible, though he watched and listened intently before she disappeared through the Fat Lady. Ginny's voice floated over to him, despite his distance, and he heard her whisper "authority's demise" to the portrait. She wasn't gone long, but in his readiness and determination it seemed forever. An audible sigh of relief escaped him as the spell over him vanished and her companion glared.  
  
"Hey! You didn't say he would be here!" Harry shouted, holding out Excalibur and pointing it at his arch-nemesis.  
  
"Please be reasonable, Harry! Do you think I would stride in and ask you to come somewhere with me privately and bring Excalibur if it didn't have to do with him and this mess we've all gotten ourselves into?"  
  
"I know what I'd think if you didn't ask me to bring Excalibur," he said slyly.  
  
Fear's point was soon at his throat. "You dare," Draco said dangerously, "to even suggest something like that, and I will beat you even worse than I will as soon as we get somewhere where we can fence."  
  
"If you've both stopped acting two years old, we can continue," Ginny said exasperatedly. They followed her in silence, both watching the other stealthily. It didn't take very long to find an empty, spacious classroom, and after she had locked the door, she removed the invisibility spell over their swords.  
  
Harry raised Excalibur, but Draco smirked. "You wouldn't object to my getting a blessing from my lady, would you?" Ginny was already untying her hair ribbon, a long, silky green one, and placing it in her knight-in- shining-armor's hand. She pecked him on the cheek and shoved him forwards to do battle.  
  
"Now we fence," Harry said, voice emotionless. Before he could even think of striking, Fear slashed through his defense to come to rest at the base of his throat.  
  
"You'll have to do better than that," his opponent said disdainfully, face expressionless but laughing all the same. His tone of voice made his boredom clear. Excalibur's edge sliced through the air, aimed at Draco's torso, but was effortlessly parried. Ginny exited to the clash of metal on metal, waiting outside for the victor.  
  
Fear's speed was dizzying as it blocked Harry's reckless thrusts. They came hard and fast, with so much power behind each stroke that he breathed hard, struggling for more air. On the other hand, his opponent was calculating every move to the finest degree, knowing where he needed to block and when. A bead of sweat trickled down Harry's face, making him shake his head. In that second Draco snaked his sword around Excalibur and jerked upwards. The sword flew from the Arthur incarnate's hand, shrieking in the air, and buried itself in the wall.  
  
Its owner watched it quiver for a moment, then spoke gruffly. "I yield," he said. His opponent removed the tip of his weapon from his neck and allowed him to pass. Harry pondered something as he tugged Excalibur from the wall, and turned to look at Draco, who was inspecting every facet of the marvelous blade he now owned. "Do you love her?" He asked finally, sliding his sword back into its makeshift sheath.  
  
All movement stopped dead except for his head, which rose slowly to meet Harry's inquiring gaze. "If I lost her, I'd spend everything I had, the rest of my life, to find her. Does that answer your question?" The answer had been a long time in coming, but it was said so steadily that any listener could tell it was the truth.  
  
"I never did," he admitted softly, ignoring the demand. "She's gorgeous, and that's all I cared about, all I could think about. You deserve to have her. I won't get in your way."  
  
Draco sheathed his blade and walked out, not pausing by the door when he left a quiet "Thank you."  
  
*  
  
Ginny awoke with a smile on her face for the first time since September. It had been the first night since then that her dreams had not been invaded by reminders of her destiny, and the first night that she had slept soundly. She couldn't help smiling or thinking that things were looking up. Until she got to breakfast.  
  
All eyes flickered to her as she entered, most of them bold and laughing. A wave of giggles washed over the Great Hall, accompanied by pointing fingers and whispers. Knowing that seeming to be embarrassed would only encourage them, she sat down next to Hermione, who immediately pulled in the edges of the newspaper she was reading. She looked at the sixth year oddly, because Hermione had never tried to hide anything from her, but took it in stride. It was going to be a very strange morning.  
  
"Good morning," she said cautiously. "Anything good in the Prophet this morning?"  
  
"No, nothing at all interesting," was Hermione's rushed and strangled reply.  
  
"Then you won't mind that I look at it when you're finished."  
  
Her neighbor reddened. "Well, actually, um, I need it for--for-- a Divination project," she said.  
  
"You don't take Divination. Just give me the bloody paper, would you? I know there's something in it about me." This straight-forward approach worked, because the paper was tossed recklessly onto her plate.  
  
"Editorials." Came the listless direction.  
  
A picture in the bottom corner caught her eye, and noticed that, without a doubt, she was in it. In the very centre of the frame was a pair kissing. It was Ginny and Draco, after she'd given him a hug not so long ago. She nearly laughed when she noticed that Harry was in the background, being held back by Hermione so he wouldn't murder anyone. Her eyes flicked to the title, where it announced in large letters that Romeo and Juliet had come to Hogwarts.  
  
~Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley, rivals at the Ministry of Magic, will not be happy to hear that their hate for each other has not been carried on by their offspring. Draco, Lucius' son, has made it clear that he is very content with Virginia, Arthur's youngest (see picture, left). After a period of turmoil and denied involvement with the Boy Who Lived, Virginia was captured on film by an anonymous student at Hogwarts when her boyfriend was ready to publicize their relationship...~  
  
"How lovely. I'll wear earplugs to breakfast tomorrow." She said calmly, not even bothering to read the rest of the article that probably gave all the false details of her happiness with Draco. Anonymous student-- she looked at the photo, and sure enough, it said "photo courtesy Colin Creevey" along the bottom. She grimaced and decided to pay Colin a visit. "I'll be back in a moment, Hermione, I've got to speak to someone."  
  
Thankfully, there was an empty seat next to Colin. "Why, hello, Colin," she said cheerfully, putting the paper down on the table. His eyes flicked to the paper for a moment, then back to her, wondering if her attitude was genuine. "I saw a photo of yours in the paper, and I wanted to congratulate you. It's a very nice photograph, though the subject matter is not quite what I would have preferred. For example, you could have chosen the Whomping Willow, Professor Dumbledore, or the giant squid. Why that?"  
  
"I--I--I thought you two looked good together, and there was good light, and good color, and--"  
  
"And you wanted to get back at me for Harry, is that right?"  
  
"Well, yes. I can't see why you didn't go out with him, he really liked you, it was obvious."  
  
"Too obvious," she quipped. "Don't meddle, Colin. You'll be sorry."  
  
His eyes got very large and round. "Are you going to hurt me?" Her sweet smile didn't fool him-- he cowered, waiting for the strike, the crack of bones, and the blood.  
  
"I'm not, but I can't control Draco. Be prepared for revenge, Slytherin style."  
  
*  
  
"Give me the paper, Goyle," he intoned, so imperious that his henchmen would probably have gone to get him a Golden Snidget if he'd asked for it. "Nice photo," he added, noticing his presence in the editorials section. He scanned the article, grimacing at the extensive use of insulting adjectives. "Who wrote this? Oh. Rita Skeeter. I'm utterly shocked." The last phrase was loaded with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Not even Crabbe, who never understood whether Draco was joking or not, mistook the meaning of his words.  
  
Pansy, having already seen the article and the picture, glared venomously at Ginny. Her eyes bore holes into the back of the Gryffindor's head, soon to re-emerge on the other side. Thomas, watching carefully, added another name to his list of possible allies.  
  
*  
  
Ginny strode into Professor McGonagall's classroom much before the bell was due to ring, pleased at being early. She rummaged in her bag, looking for her homework, which was neatly rolled up and tied with string. It was right on the top, next to a half-full bottle of ink and several clean rolls of parchment. Allowing herself a smile at her organisation, she placed the materials neatly on the desk top so the Professor could be as pleased that at least one student was ready on time.  
  
Professor McGonagall was far from pleased with Ginny. She looked sternly at the student over the tops of her glasses, which were perched precariously on the bridge of her nose. They remained so under the paranoia - inducing glare their owner was sending.  
  
The target realized momentarily that she was being watched, and so responded. "Yes, Professor?"  
  
"You are wanted in Headmaster Dumbledore's office immediately, Weasley," she said, spectacles wiggling slightly from side to side.  
  
Ginny nodded, put her things away, then halted, remembering that she had no idea where the Headmaster's office was.  
  
"Don't keep the Headmaster waiting," McGonagall ordered, pushing her glasses farther up on her nose.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't know where it is," she replied, making faces in her mind. "I've not gotten into trouble before, you see."  
  
Watching her spectacles slip down to the tip of her nose, the professor heaved a great sigh of exasperation. "Follow me," she snapped, then swept out of the room.  
  
*  
  
She seated herself in the only empty chair, staring at the snoozing portraits on the walls and the silver magical instruments gleaming on the Headmaster's desk. Draco looked as insolent as ever, obviously wishing to be somewhere else. Dumbledore took no notice of their attitudes, but stood and bowed deeply to all three of them in turn.  
  
"I suppose you know what I am going to be speaking to you about," he said.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "That Rita Skeeter article, obviously. It has nothing to do with Potter, though, he doesn't really need-"  
  
"Oh, it has everything to do with Harry," the Headmaster interrupted. "Or should I say King Arthur?"  
  
They all paled, but didn't look at each other. Ginny and her boyfriend kept looking resolutely forwards, trying to seem bemused and puzzled.  
  
Harry took no such pretenses. "How do you know?" He asked, voice hoarse with shock.  
  
"The Lady of the Lake is not discreet," he chuckled. "Nor were you when you summoned her. I wish to discuss with you a proposition involving my allowance of time for you to develop your powers. All three of you spend time every afternoon practising together, testing each other's abilities, with no questions asked. In return, I'd like to run some tests and have a report on my desk every week about your progress."  
  
Ginny's eyes blazed. "I am not a guinea pig, Headmaster, and I don't wish to be treated like one. I suppose you'd be documenting the information, then sending out a report to the Daily Prophet about the new freaks you'd found to study?"  
  
"Not at all," Dumbledore responded. "This must be kept in the utmost confidence. If Voldemort knew that you three were alive, and that the old myth were true, there wouldn't be much left for us to do. He'd try to bring you over to his side, torture you if you didn't, and kill you later when he realized you wouldn't help him. Would you agree to my proposition if I allowed you to write your own weekly progress reports?"  
  
They nodded in unison, very much relieved that their Headmaster was now aware of their predicament.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, JK's. That just about explains it. Next chapter: we find out what Draco is dreaming about and what relevance that has to any of this. The following chapters will be rated PG16 because I can't control the dirty little thoughts in Draco's mind. 


	21. Linked

Legend Chapter XXI: Linked by Marie McKinnon  
  
As predicted, the next morning a red envelope landed in front of Ginny. An identical one had been placed on Draco's plate. Their eyes met, and they slit the Howlers open at the same time.  
  
"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL? HOW MANY TIMES? DID YOU EVER THINK TO LISTEN TO US? NO, YOU DIDN'T! WE ALWAYS WARNED YOU OF THE MALFOYS AND OF GETTING INVOLVED WITH THEM, BUT THE FIRST I HEAR OF YOUR ROMANCES, IT'S ONE OF THEM!" Arthur Weasley's voice was nearly as strong as Molly's in his violent dislike of the Malfoys. Remaining completely indifferent, she buttered two pieces of toast and began to munch on them while he ranted.  
  
Lucius' stern bellow mingled with Arthur's shouts. "I AM MOST SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. IF YOU NEEDED A LADY FRIEND TO CARRY AROUND ON YOUR ARM TO SOCIAL GATHERINGS AT HOME, I WOULD HELP YOU MAKE THE DECISION, BUT F***ING THAT WEASLEY SLUT IS UNNACCEPTABLE! IT'S DEGRADING TO BE IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THE WEASLEYS, BUT TO BE PERSONALLY INVOLVED WITH ONE OF THEM IS EVEN WORSE. I FORBID YOU TO GO NEAR HER." He too seemed not to hear the harangue blaring into the Great Hall, though it continued for the better part of a minute.  
  
"Ginny? Are you all right?" Hermione asked. There was no response. Several more pleas for her to speak were made, but the fifth year stayed silent. Losing her temper, Hermione smacked her neighbor across the shoulder.  
  
"What was that for?" She demanded irately after pulling an earplug out of each ear.  
  
Hermione looked sheepish. "You wouldn't respond."  
  
"I did what I said I would do. Even Mum's voice can't get through earplugs."  
  
"That was your dad's voice," she corrected.  
  
Ginny smiled in triumph. "My point exactly."  
  
*  
  
~No candles shone in the Great Hall. At the High Table, where Dumbledore usually sat, a hooded and cloaked figure hid itself in the darkness. She stood alone, confident, but hoped for aid from the other trio members. The shadowy figure's head was raised, and two livid eyes leered at her from behind the hood's folds. "Morgana, come forward," it hissed.  
  
Fear raced through her blood. He couldn't know. No one knew, except for Dumbledore, and he would never disclose such an important secret. A lump was growing in her throat, and when she tried, she couldn't speak. She couldn't move or summon up her magic. Cold sweat trickled down her back, bringing all of her hairs on end. Pinpoints of fright reached every millimeter of her skin, but she was unable to shiver them away. Her mind whirled, searching for some possible strategy and finding none.  
  
"Yes, young one, I know your true name. My spies never lie, and you have been watched ever since you met the Malfoy boy."  
  
Draco? Draco had betrayed her after she'd loved and trusted him? Even though her muscles were immobile, Ginny felt her heart break.  
  
"Would you like to see him? I assume that's a yes," he cackled. From the wrinkles of cloth that swathed his emaciated form he brought a vacant-eyed head, wisps of silvery blond hair blocking the lifeless holes from sight. Draco's mouth hung open, his severed muscles lacking the strength or stubborness to hold it closed. Tears forced their way to her eyes, rebelling against the spell that had her petrified in place. "No, no, Morgana, he didn't betray you. You will never know who did, but you won't have enough time in your short life to worry about it. Avada Kedavra!"  
  
"Draco!" Her mind shrieked, reaching for him though she was being told he was dead. "Draco, help!" She knew he couldn't possibly be dead, and knew he couldn't help her anyway, but the green flash was coming closer, and she was desperate. It hit, tearing the breath from her frozen lungs, separating the very life from her shell.~  
  
She shot up in bed, her cry for help still resounding in her mind.  
  
*  
  
~Her russet hair tumbled down her shoulders onto a silky green button-down blouse. Everything about her stood out. The blouse was tailored to be slimmer at the waist, emphasising it, and her perfect legs were in crisp black trousers. He couldn't help himself; he put his arms around her silky soft waist, cherishing the texture, and bore her down onto the bed.  
  
His kiss was hard and frantic, trying to capture her whole mouth at once. He was tangled in her hair, not noticing its difference from the silk of her blouse. Assaulting her mouth, he felt scorched, and raked the inside of it with his tongue repeatedly. She writhed under him, shivers making her tremble. His tongue was all over the inside of her mouth, deliberately sandpapering it and sending such extreme cold that she felt frozen despite the heat of the moment. He wanted her so badly that all of his control was gone. Slim fingers began unbuttoning her shirt, brushing her petal-soft skin underneath. She sat up to arch her back and allowed the blouse to slide into a silky pool on the bed. Kissing her once more, Draco's deft fingers slipped behind her to undo the black lace barrier, the last thing between him and her full, large breasts. His hands fumbled around them, reveling in the smooth, sturdy flesh and their perfect roundness. He groaned against her mouth in pleasure, feeling her tongue clean his teeth and gums, and took his hands, one on each breast, and made a cage of them. Her perfect skin was captured by splayed fingers that squeezed unrelentlessly. She arched her back in pain and ecstasy, molding her stomach and ribs against his already-bare torso, still caught in the iron grip of his mouth.  
  
Reluctant to release her chest, Draco did so, pulling down hard on the skin over her ribs, stomach, and waist, as though he were trying to get all of the wrinkles out of her skin. It scorched him with such a powerful heat that it melded them together. Tongues grappling, his hand slid down into the top of her trousers. Without warning, a cry of "Draco! Draco, help!" sliced through the fabric of his mind, sending his erotic fantasy away with the early morning mist. ~  
  
He rose quickly from the mass of tangled sheets enveloping him. The dream had been very realistic; his shirt had been thrown to the floor and his breathing was hard and fast. Faster still was the repetition of Ginny's plea. He knew it was Ginny's. Her voice seemed imprinted on his mind, as was the sound of her walking towards him and her scent. Without waiting for a second call, he reached out and demanded that his sword come to him instead of vice versa. His fingers closed around Fear's hilt almost before the silvery metal slammed into his palm.  
  
Not bothering to put on a shirt, Draco leapt from his bed and raced up to Gryffindor Tower. His bare feet pounded on the cold stone floors, even colder now that it was the middle of the night. Icy midnight air wrapped itself around him and poured into his reluctant lungs. He finally skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping.  
  
After tapping her on the frame to wake her, he whispered "Authority's demise," hoping that the password hadn't been changed since then. He was lucky. The Fat Lady swung forwards sleepily, then shut quickly behind him. A fire in the hearth still burned, casting an unearthly light on the sole figure within its reach.  
  
Rivulets of flame streamed down her back. Her head was buried in her hands, and he could tell that she was suppressing sobs that threatened to pour out in a relentless flood. She shivered in the cold, but her pale, bare skin glowed in the firelight. He noticed that she was breathing hard from the up and down motion of her ribs, and then realized, with a stab of pain in his abdomen that told him his body had realized too, that she was in her pajamas. What pajamas they were, he thought, swallowing an ecstatic moan. She wore only a sports bra and some shorts, proof of her poverty and inability to buy anything better, though the difference was lost on him. His mind reeled over her appearance, taking in every millimeter of bare skin that caught his attention.  
  
Ginny was obviously too worked up to notice him, so he fought down the urge to run his hands over her back and shoulders and used the sarcastic tone of voice that everyone instantly connected with him. "You called?" He asked, halfway between bitterness and amusement.  
  
Her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box, the corners of her eyes glistening from the tears she held back. "You're all right!" She whispered in relief, dashing over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, relishing the sensation of her usually-searing flesh, cooled by the icy air. Trembling from the effort of self-control, he buried his face in her smooth, soft hair and kissed the elegant curve of her neck. It took much more self-control to pull away and look her in the eye, but he did it.  
  
"Of course I am," he murmured, brushing a curl away from her face. "Are you?"  
  
In an attempt to nod, more tears spilled into her eyes, and she shivered. His arms folded around her protectively as they moved slowly back to the cushioned couch. She hiccoughed once, then fell silent, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Her back against his uncovered chest felt wonderful. If she hadn't been so distressed, she would have been staring at him covetously.  
  
"Tell me what happened," he said quietly.  
  
One word escaped her before any other. "Voldemort." It came out ragged and worn out with fear and hate, but it came, and brought with it the rest of her tale. "He knew all about the magic, and you, and he froze me. I couldn't move, couldn't do *anything.* And he said I'd been watched since I started going out with you, so I just fell. I thought you'd betrayed us. But then, then he-- he-- he--"  
  
"It's all right. You can say it." His voice was soothing, though he hated to think what had terrified her so much that she was reluctant to say it.  
  
"--he pulled out your head. It was dead, lifeless, I couldn't-- couldn't look, it was you, but not you, you're energetic, and it was dead. He said the Killing Curse, and I saw it coming closer, closer, I knew I'd die, but there was nothing I could do. I called for you, but then it hit, and I--"  
  
"Died," he supplied gently. "What did you call?"  
  
She looked askance at him, but replied. "I think it was 'Draco! Draco, help!' but I'm not sure."  
  
"I heard you," he said slowly, trying to get himself to believe it. "In my mind. And if you couldn't speak in your dream, you shouted from your mind, too."  
  
"We're linked," she responded. "It must be the d*** magic." A yawn escaped her mouth, and Draco smiled benevolently.  
  
"I think somebody needs to go to bed," he whispered. She felt the movement of his lips by her ear, but wasn't distracted. She was so tired, she couldn't even reply. "Come on, I'll tuck you in." As he said it, he pulled her upright and helped her to her room. Seeing her asleep, the sole color amid the snowy white sheets, wrenched at his heart. Her usual confidence and stubbornness were gone, replaced by an angelic, gentle expression. Maybe it was because she was relaxed, maybe it was because she had let her guard down, but whatever it was, it added that bit of mortality that she seemed to lack. She shivered, but didn't pull up a blanket, and pushed it away when he tried to cover her with it.  
  
Fine, then, he thought. I know another, better way to get you warm. After all, what's warmer than body heat? With such undisputable reasoning, it was obvious that he ought to get into bed with her, which he did. Using his last bit of strength to send Fear soaring back to his bedroom, he fell asleep with Ginny cradled in his arms.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't know what possessed me to write this. It was probably Draco, seeing as he'd dearly love to do that. No proof, though, so you'll have to believe me when I tell you that most of the more inappropriate content suddenly appeared on my computer screen without my doing anything about it. 


	22. Plans

Legend Chapter XXII: Plans by Marie McKinnon  
  
His eyelids fluttered, struggling against the sleep that overpowered him. He opened them completely for a second, then closed them again. It was just too comfortable to wake up yet. After all, he was warm, his arms were wrapped around something soft and silky, and even the sun hadn't shown its face yet. One finger ran over the smooth surface, then fell into a tiny hole just large enough to hold its tip. Almost like a belly-button, he thought absently. A belly-button! His mind shouted. Had he taken a girl into his bed last night? When he was being true to Ginny? Wait, wait, he rationalized, last night I came up to Gryffindor Tower to help Ginny, and I fell asleep in her bed. Nothing was done by anyone. He sighed in relief, though he regretted not having lived his dream.  
  
Last night he had verified to himself that he really loved her. He had never been afraid for anyone in his life, not even when the school was threatened with the monster of Slytherin. Except that when he had woken with her cry for help ringing in his ears, he had been so terrified that she would be hurt or killed that he hadn't been able to think straight for a few seconds. He had given Potter some crap when he'd been asked that question because the truth was, he really hadn't known. Now he did. He loved her so much that just the thought of her being hurt petrified him.  
  
The sound of bedsheets being tossed around brought him out of his stupor. What would her roommates say when they saw her in bed with her boyfriend? They would assume the worst, and they would both be expelled. He kissed her neck gently, almost at her shoulder, and the thrill that ran through him when she nestled deeper into his embrace was unbelievable. Another kiss, a little higher on her neck, and she let out a little sigh of happiness. A line of deliberate kisses made their way up her neck, interspersed with her little moans and sighs.  
  
Once he got close enough to her ear, he whispered "Ginny, wake up." His voice was deep but quiet, and she would have felt his lips brushing her light wisps if she'd been awake. Her eyelids flickered once or twice, but she remained asleep. He nipped her neck lightly, an inch below where her jawbone met her ear. She writhed, turning over so she faced him. In the second when she lifted her side to turn, he pulled his arm out from underneath her with relief. It had been falling asleep.  
  
Features smooth and relaxed, mouth in a contented smile, she let all of her confidence fall away to reveal an innocent, pure girl in an age when people were neither innocent nor pure. Her curls were spread across the pillow like a halo, re-enforcing her angelic appearance. He was very seriously considering snogging her awake when she completely opened her eyes.  
  
"About d*** time," he muttered. She blinked several times, sat up, then opened her mouth in outrage, about to shout at him. He clapped his hand over the gaping hole, allowing the mass of sheets to slide off of his bare chest. "No. Your friends are still sleeping, and they can't catch me here. If you have to say something, say it quietly."  
  
Her doe's eyes filled with panic. "We didn't, did we?" She whispered, terrified.  
  
"Much to my regret, no," Draco replied. "Though I'd be glad to remedy that," he added huskily, easing her bra straps down over her shoulders to expose a bit more of her chest than she thought appropriate. He was straddling her legs as she lay propped up on her elbows with her upper body inadvertently thrust forwards, his muscled torso about a centimeter away from her body. His fingers walked down into the visible hollow, but were stopped dead by her grip on his wrist. Her glare said more than any words could. "Sorry. You're so sexy I can't help myself."  
  
She rose off of her elbows, eyes lidded seductively. "You ain't seen nothing yet," she replied, sitting up. A scorching finger ran down his chest, and he shivered inwardly. Her back pushed her forwards, melding their skin. She kissed him hard, her tongue ravaging the inside of his mouth and leaving him breathless. Her triumphant grin was brilliant, pearly whites glistening. She slid her legs out from underneath him and headed towards the showers after summoning him a shirt.  
  
He heard the water stop tapping against the glass, so decided to investigate. What he saw hit him hard. She was covered, of course, but the towel only reached from the beginning of her chest to the very top of her thighs. The sodden material clung to her luscious curves and didn't even cover her shoulders or, more importantly, her slim, elegant legs. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets with the strain of seeing every droplet of water making its way down her back, front, or leg, then pooling onto the floor.  
  
"Thank God for short towels," he muttered to himself, so quietly that Ginny, engrossed in the combing of her hair, didn't hear him. His feet made their way silently across the smooth marble. He pushed her hands away from her hair, then moved her hair itself away from a spot on her neck that was red and had the definite imprint of teeth. "Well, well, well, Miss Weasley," he whispered, making her start. "Who are you seeing behind my back, hmmm?"  
  
"I am not amused. Return my clothing immediately." She hissed, eyes widening.  
  
"I took nothing. I came in and was so mesmerized that I couldn't make myself walk away. Answer the question."  
  
She was furious with him, both for catching her in a towel and for implying that she would be unfaithful. "I'll turn you invisible so no one will see you when you go back into the dormitory. You may sit on my bed." Her voice was calm, but she herself was asking the same question. How had that tooth mark gotten on her neck? The most obvious answer was that Draco himself had gotten a bit carried away while he had been trying to wake her up. Just thinking about him kissing her neck made the muscles in the base of her stomach go taut in ecstasy, but biting had that fierce, rough tone that fit his mood perfectly. Nevertheless, she put concealer over the spot so no one would be suspicious of their activities.  
  
All of her roommates were still dozing when she returned to the room, covered by a silky green robe that followed the shape of her body and hung past her knees. Its sash was all that prevented it from sliding off of her shoulders and revealing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.  
  
He had had quite a lot of shocks since he'd gone to bed the night before, all of them involving Ginny in varying states of deshabille, and he could say without any regret that the most pleasurable had been waking up next to her. However, the elegant dressing gown was next on his list. Concentrating hard, he sent his thought to her. ~What is this obsession with silk? Your skin and hair feel like silk, and now you have a silk dressing gown. Am I missing something? Silk panties, maybe? If so, could I see?~  
  
An annoyed, that's-not-funny look flew his way in response to the last inquiry, but she answered the rest more politely. ~I read a book once that mentioned a character as being "the most beautiful thing on two feet; all silk and steel and lighting,"~ her mental voice quoted with reverence. ~Do I qualify?~  
  
~You've certainly got the lighting thing down,~ he teased. ~And anyone who says you're not the most beautiful thing on two feet is blind. I'll help you with the steel, though, as your voice just barely qualifies.~  
  
She smiled at that, having been told before that her harshest voice could cut through steel. Rubbing her neck absently, she looked at her boyfriend, trying to find a sign from him that he had been the guilty party. His eyes seemed focused on her hand, which massaged the tiny dents that had to be from teeth. She had had quite a lot of romance already that morning and was ready to send him off before anything really happened. Unfortunately for her, he came up and moved her hand away from the tiny red spot.  
  
~Does your other boyfriend do this?~ He asked, pressing his lips to the base of her neck and allowing his tongue to caress the skin before parting. They stuck to her flesh, reluctant, but peeled away finally. She felt him try to stay attached as long as possible, recognizing his touch as an icy impact. A long line of such kisses made their way up her neck to almost her ear, then stopped for him to inquire again ~Or does he do this?~ His tongue's tip traced the curve of her neck, sending shivers through her blood that tried to shake off the tightness of her stomach muscles, but were unsuccessful. He reached the bottom of her ear and hesitated as the tiny bit of his tongue that touched her skin went up in flames. ~Those were both wrong, of course. He bites you like this, doesn't he?~ His sharp front teeth raked a red line next to her jawbone. She gasped quietly, not expecting such an assault, but enjoying the fierceness of it. He allowed himself to nip lightly below her ear, then at her shoulder, then between the two.  
  
Even her mind seemed breathless when she answered his questions. ~He's not done any of that till just now,~ she replied. ~Except, of course, for when he's taken advantage of my unconsciousness to make his moves.~  
  
~Making my moves on you is always fun,~ he laughed, pulling away from her neck. ~A lot of snogging is usually involved. But not now, because after you put something on your new bite marks, we're going to go see Dumbledore.~ His restraint seemed strained, because he knew he could just forget about the mental link and bear her down onto the bed until his moans of physical pleasure woke the rest of the castle. ~Otherwise everyone will think there's a vampire loose in the castle.~  
  
Having magically covered up the dents his sharp little teeth made, Ginny cast yet another spell of invisibility so they wouldn't be seen walking through the halls in their pajamas. After all, it was only 6:30 A.M, and it would look suspicious if she were seen escorting him back to his room. They could see each other, but no one else knew they were there. Her silk dressing gown swished from back to front as she walked, calling attention to her legs. His attention had already been on them, of course, though not as concentrated as it was then.  
  
~Would you consider coming to my chambers late this evening wearing that robe?~ He asked. ~*Just* that robe?~  
  
Her eyes rolled skyward. ~In your dreams.~  
  
~Every night,~ he grinned. ~You can't imagine how disappointing it is to wake up by myself every morning and know that everything I thought I'd done the night before had been a dream.~  
  
~I don't need to imagine it, you've explained sufficiently.~ She deadpanned, looking sour. A cheeky wink, not unlike those that Gilderoy Lockhart performed from the cover of his books, let him know her bitterness was an act. Her expression became serious again. ~Really, though, please don't keep hinting at it. I'm going to wait until I'm married for that.~ She waved her hand around to signify what "that" meant.  
  
~Why?~ He asked. ~What's so great about waiting?~  
  
She sighed, then launched into an explanation. ~It's something about my family. I dunno about yours, but it's very honourable for the girls to be virgins when they get married. A string of lovely white pearls has been passed down forever for us to wear on our wedding days, and if they go black when you put them on, you're not, and everybody knows it. It'd be humiliating, and the pearls are gorgeous. And there are all sorts of things that can go wrong if you do. So there's my little blurb. You happy?~  
  
~No,~ he said, in mock frustration. ~Now I have to wait until I marry you!~  
  
*  
  
"So," Dumbledore said from behind his desk, a nightcap having been hastily removed. "What is the dilemma here?"  
  
~Do you want to tell him?~ Draco asked.  
  
She shook her head. ~No, you tell him.~  
  
"Fine. Last night, after midnight, I think, I was dreaming, and--"  
  
At the word "dreaming", Dumbledore interrupted. "About what? It could be important."  
  
~How the Hell could that be important?~ He asked, annoyed. "Ginny was in my room at the castle. We were talking and having some fun of a nature that I don't believe I need to explain. She called for help mentally, which I heard. Once I got to Gryffindor Tower she was sitting in the common room, shaking."  
  
"My dream was horrible," she added, thinking it would be obligatory for her to tell as well. "I walked into the Great Hall, and instead of seeing you at the head of the High Table, there was someone in a cloak so large and dark that you couldn't see him for the shadows and the cloth. He called me forward, but I froze. He'd called me Morgana, and no one knows but you-- do they?" She asked, putting him on the spot and knowing exactly what she was doing.  
  
"No, Miss Weasley, I've not told anyone." His eyes twinkled merrily.  
  
"I froze so completely that I couldn't move, speak, or use my magic at all. He spoke, gloated about having betrayed me and having killed my friends. That was when he pulled out Draco's head." Her eyes were clear and unafraid, but nonetheless, he slipped his arm around her waist. "Voldemort did Avada Kedavra on me, and I saw it in slow-motion, and called out for him before it hit."  
  
"Apparently, she called the same thing that I heard. We've been talking mind to mind all morning."  
  
"All morning, you said? What about last night?"  
  
Draco made a concentrated effort not to look guilty before he responded. "What do you mean, Professor?"  
  
"I mean," the elderly man said gently, "that perhaps you accompanied Miss Weasley to her bedroom and decided to remain there for some of the fun you mentioned earlier."  
  
"He helped me to my room, but that was because I couldn't stand up, I was so tired. He was a perfect gentleman," Ginny admonished, insulted that the Headmaster would think that of them, conveniently forgetting that Draco would gladly have initiated it.  
  
He tried to seem self-righteous as he admitted "She was cold, but when I tried to pull up a blanket, she kicked it off. After a few times I gave up with the blanket and lay down next to her. I'm lucky she didn't kick *me* off."  
  
"All three of you will be in detention in the dungeons every day until the end of the school year," Dumbledore stated gravely. The shocked expressions on their faces and their open-mouthed protests prompted him to explain. "I know Harry had nothing to do with it and that you did nothing wrong. However, some excuse must be found for me to pull you out of classes and allow you to prepare yourselves for the final battle. There will be many before that, I assure you, but your identities must be concealed before then. Don't use your Old Magick near anyone who could see you and wonder what you were doing; you would have to modify their memories, and that plays dreadfully upon the conscience. Report to the classroom two doors down from Professor Snape's at 3:00 tomorrow afternoon."  
  
Draco and Ginny left quietly, trying to make their steps soft against the hard floor. Though neither would admit it, their thoughts were far from the recently made plans.  
  
Disclaimer: By now I think you would have realized that I own absolutely nothing. Just a note: deshabille means undress. It's French. Draco voudrait qu'elle se deshabille pour dormir. Ha! Korinna, Mars, ne me tue pas... REVIEW OR CHAPTER 23 WILL BE ABOUT FISHING! 


	23. Marked

Legend Chapter XXIII: Marked By Marie McKinnon  
  
Slight high heels clicked against the cold, unwelcoming stone floor of the Hogwarts dungeon. Peering through the heavy shadows in an attempt to discern one piece of wall from another, Ginny squinted at what she knew was Professor Snape's classroom. She kept walking with a smile on her face as she heard the echoes of her footsteps bouncing off of the sides of the passageway. Her feet took step after confident step into the gloom. One door, she counted mentally. Not much farther now. The clang of swords was already audible, but only to her; no one would hear their arguments in case of a report to parents or teachers.  
  
Their clashing strokes halted abruptly, accompanied by a laugh she knew was Draco's. It came out as more of a snort of amusement or ridicule than a laugh, though no one really cared to tell the difference.  
  
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy," Harry growled, humiliated. "Help me get it down, will you?" Once again, Harry had entered a duel with his vassal, and once again he had been relieved of his sword, which had flown into the wall. They both endeavored to pull it out by jumping up and down, standing on each other's shoulders, and using summoning spells, but nothing worked. When Ginny entered, they had their eyes shut tightly and were sitting perfectly still.  
  
She stood there for a moment, waiting to see what they were doing. It finally looked so silly that she broke their concentration by asking "Excuse me, have I interrupted meditation hour? Shall I come back later?"  
  
"We're trying to get Excalibur out of the wall," Harry explained, nodding to his sword.  
  
"Again," Draco added with a smirk.  
  
Eyeing them suspiciously, she said "Please tell me you weren't throwing weapons around and Excalibur just so happened to fly into the wall."  
  
"I was disarmed."  
  
"Again."  
  
In a few blinks Ginny was across the room, almost directly under the silver blade making a perpendicular angle with the wall. She checked her position, then rose steadily off the floor, glowing with magic. It wasn't dramatic or eye catching, though wandless flight usually would have been. Her arms were at her sides, hanging relaxed, and she seemed to have not noticed that her feet were suddenly about two meters above the floor. She easily pulled it out from its place, holding it reverently.  
  
"Try that next time," she suggested, handing it back to Harry. "Draco, instead of disarming him, would you please teach him how to avoid being disarmed?"  
  
His gray eyes glinted. "If you insist. Though it is rather amusing to watch him jumping up and down, trying to reach his sword."  
  
"Amusing, but not productive."  
  
Harry looked at her suspiciously. "And exactly what have you been doing to become so productive that you can lecture us about it?"  
  
Harry suddenly flipped upside-down, messy hair brushing the ground. Excalibur clanged harshly against the stone, then lay almost still, vibrating. The hem of his robes slipped over his arms, inhibiting them. Thankfully for the others, he had tucked his shirt in.  
  
"Well, you can't say that's not useful," Draco sniggered. "You've invented the Amazing Wonder Mop." He watched her back carefully, scanning her shoulders and arms for the beginning of a movement. Seeing nothing, he relaxed, only to suddenly rise off the floor, carried by the seat of his trousers. Ginny hadn't even turned around.  
  
"As you can see," she continued, "I've been experimenting with the manipulation of objects other than myself and enchanting more than one object at once. Do you think I've been productive?"  
  
"Potter's turning purple."  
  
Her head turned towards the speaker, smiling cockily. A loud thud was heard from behind her, accompanied by a string of swear words. Harry heaved himself up onto his feet, rubbing his head gingerly. Once his vision had cleared sufficiently, he snorted with laughter at the untouchable Draco Malfoy, hanging in the air by his trousers. Remembering what had happened when Malfoy had laughed at him, he clapped a hand over his mouth.  
  
Each step forward was deliberate until Ginny stood almost at eye level with the new wall hanging. "I think I might just leave you there," she said. "You do wonders for the décor."  
  
*  
  
Two hours or so later, a pair of students sat by the lake silently, not speaking, not moving. Her hair burst into flame in the glow of the dying sun, completely ignoring that she sat under a tree to remain in the shade. Keeping her company was a young man, approximately her age, who kept his hands to himself with great effort. His eyes, however, he could not control in the slightest. He looked at her clothes, smiling to himself about her independence. While every other girl in the school, with the possible exception of Hermione, wore minuscule shorts and shirts that could have doubled for bikini tops, Ginny had on a shortsleeved shirt that actually could be tucked in, which it was. Her shorts were so long that they ended a little bit above her knees and covered her hips at the same time. Nonetheless, she looked lovely, clean, and happy.  
  
Draco smiled at her, knowing that if he told her what he thought, she would make some unappreciated sarcastic comment. It was unusual, though, for a girl to be so undoubtedly beautiful and for her not to show it off with skimpy clothing. Perhaps, he thought, that her good taste in clothing made her even more gorgeous. She seemed innocent, untouched by the media, but he knew she wasn't. If anything, she paid more attention to the media than ever, watching restlessly for another article that would draw attention to herself when she least wanted it. Getting attention, when one has supernatural powers that need to be hidden, is not very beneficial for the cause.  
  
He hazarded contact, lightly draping his arm over her shoulders. The water on the lake glittered with the slanted rays of golden light playing across its surface. A flash of light from behind startled them into jumping up, looking around, and stopping to see the sun slipping below the horizon. In the sudden twilight, torches from the castle began to look inviting, and they headed back for dinner.  
  
*  
  
Climbing the marble staircase, Ginny smiled at the faint cries of "Mercy! Please, have mercy!" from the stairs. Obviously someone had left their read-aloud book open on the table when they descended to dinner. Floating down through the air came a harsh voice. "Avada Kedavra!" It shouted. She shuddered. Whoever read that in a time when the incantation was heard much too often probably didn't have much of a conscience.  
  
It was deserted. Not one person remained in the tower, leaving her light footsteps to echo in the emptiness. The storyteller's voice had halted, probably at the end of a chapter. She thanked it silently, not wanting to have to search out the book and close it to achieve peace of mind. Unfortunately, she was far from peace of mind.  
  
At the top of the steps she halted, completely winded. It wasn't the exercise; she was in quite good shape, and stairs didn't bother her. An emerald haze floated between her and her dormitory doors, formed of minute sparks, some darker than others. A skull leered at her, as did the serpent that protruded from one of its vacant openings. Ginny grasped the bannister for support, trying shut out the realization that her bedroom was guarded by the Dark Mark. 


	24. First Sacrifices

Legend Chapter XXIV: First Sacrifices by Marie McKinnon  
  
Her mind whirled. In all probability, there was either a Death Eater or a corpse inside, and she didn't have her wand. It was in her trunk, handy in case she wanted to summon it, but it would be noticed and caught, perhaps even broken, before she could open the doors. She couldn't move, so consuming was the fear that held her in its clutches. Her breath hung, suspended, halfway between her lungs and her mouth.  
  
Hushed voices she had heard coming through the doors replayed in her mind. "No, don't, we haven't done anything to you! Please, have mercy!"  
  
"Please! Mercy, mercy, have mercy on us! Let us--"  
  
Through the tear-choked pleading came again that much stronger, more powerful voice. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" It shouted. Hearing those words repeated in her mind unfroze the ice that seemed to have kept her still.  
  
She shoved the doors wide open, yelling something to the effect of "D*** you thrice to hell! Take your organisation with you, too!" Without thinking, she had used Morgana's voice, so strong and commanding that it reverberated in the empty hallway. She was in the middle of the dormitory before she realized what she was doing.  
  
"Well, well, well," said the only other living creature in the tower. Had she cared to look at him, she would have seen quite a handsome young man with hazel eyes and ash-blonde hair, a strong build, and a very hungry expression. "What have we here?" He inspected her thoroughly, drinking in her shape from her toes to the top of her head. Her shorts suddenly seemed to have shrunk several inches under his covetous stare, and her shirt may as well have been transparent.  
  
His intentions were obvious as he walked over to her, then placed his strong hands on her shoulders and shoved her onto the bed. She let her hands lie above her head while he busied himself about kissing and biting her neck. Without any noise, commotion, or notice, she summoned her wand. A great sigh of relief swept through her when she felt its smooth surface in her hand. He, however, thinking the sigh due to his work on her well- made short sleeved shirt, massaged her neck absently before continuing his attempt. Ginny changed their position, switching it so she was on top of him, smiling seductively.  
  
He looked right down the neck of her shirt, which was considerably looser, and grinned. "Feisty," he commented huskily.  
  
"You bet," she purred, pointing her wand at his throat. "STUPEFY!"  
  
A quick adjustment later and she strode into the Great Hall, heading right for the High Table. Her steps were long and determined; she covered about two feet with every stride. The room went quiet instantly, and Draco stood up, worried.  
  
Dumbledore stopped in mid sentence, adding "I'll meet with you privately, Miss Weasley."  
  
"No," she said, so loudly that everyone heard her. "You won't. Ingrid Lepoidevin and Frances Kalron have been murdered." With that, she left the room.  
  
It had been a great feat for her to manage such an announcement while her throat clamped shut. Tears were welling up in her eyes, and someplace in the back of her head itched a warning itch, telling her that she was going to cry. Her stomach was taut, but not with pleasure any more. It contracted with the effort of disguising her mood until she was safely out of earshot. She had gotten to the tree where just half an hour before the mood had been light and full of laughter, half-smiling with irony, before the tears came out in earnest. In her depression she kept her sense of appearance, rising gently into the tree and seating herself on a high, strong branch, then allowing herself to be soaked once more.  
  
Draco wasn't far behind. He'd put together a roast beef sandwhich for her hastily, thinking that she would be worn out and hungry when he found her. Clutching the napkin-wrapped package, he raced out onto the grounds. It wasn't hard to find her, as her silvery magic was spilling out and frosting the large fir tree. He hovered next to her for a moment, trying to get her to notice him, but to no avail. His arm went around her almost instantly, a lifeline, and she let herself lean on him.  
  
She didn't sob or bawl, just allowed quiet tears to make their tracks on her face. Pearly lines criscrossed her cheeks, bathing her in their soft glimmers. The moon came out of the clouds, shooting iridescent rays along the surface of the lake. She cried and cried until there was no more water in her for tears, then hiccoughed, trying to breathe properly.  
  
"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asked softly, handing her the sandwhich.  
  
Her voice was shaky, but calm. "I came inside the common room, and thought someone had left one of those read-aloud books open, because I heard the characters ask an attacker to spare them-- they hadn't done anything to anyone-- but he AK-ed them before they could even finish their sentences. The Dark Mark was outside the door, so I knew there were either corpses inside or a Death Eater preparing to kill me. Then-then I remembered the book conversation, and I knew it hadn't been a book. I went in, and almost before I could try to fight him, hurt him in some way, he had me on my back on the bed and was trying to-to-to" She waved her hands around her shirt top, hoping Draco would get the idea. He did, growling. " I summoned my wand and stunned him. He's probably still there now." She trembled violently in his arms, prompting him to hold her tighter against his side.  
  
"Do you know who he was?"  
  
She shook her head. "He's not from Hogwarts, I don't think, but I wasn't looking at him. The only things I saw were their bodies lying on the floor- -" Her voice broke, but no tears came out. "It's all my fault," she said composedly. "They're trying to drive me insane by hurting my friends. Nothing would have happened to them if they hadn't known me."  
  
He rubbed her back gently to soothe her. "You can't know that. Their families could have been on Voldemort's hit list anyway."  
  
"Do you really believe that?"  
  
"No," he admitted, "but it's possible. The death of your friends and an attempted rape in one evening is a bit much for even you to handle." Her eyes were their normal colour, not red or watery, when he looked back at her. "We should go back inside. You may need to give testimony or something like that."  
  
She let herself drop out of the tree as though nothing mattered any more, slowing her fall with a cushion of silver. He did the same, though more reluctantly.  
  
On entering the Great Hall, he was grabbed around the arm by Professor McGonagall. "You have a visitor," she said coldly. "You are to meet him in the Headmaster's office."  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but walked upstairs slowly. He needed to think, to calm down. Someone had hurt Ginny badly, and that someone was going to be hurt in return. Although he would have dearly loved to have found the bastard, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall, that wasn't the Slytherin thing to do. Whoever he was, he had better start praying.  
  
Finding himself out of cruel and easily disguisable methods of revenge, he looked up into the contorted stone face of Dumbledore's gargoyle. Snape stood next to it, ready to let him in. The expression on his face would have terrified a lesser being, but a lot had happened that day already, and he was so tired of it that he forgot to look respectful or in awe of the Potions Master.  
  
"Perhaps it would interest you to know, Mister Malfoy, that your cousin is inside, attempting to find his way out of a very difficult situation. He was found, stunned, in the Gryffndor dormitories. When we woke him, he said that he'd been trying to find you and had ended up in the wrong room. It would be appreciated if you would speak to him and discern the truth from his fabrications."  
  
His mind reeled. A relative had murdered Ginny's friends? His *cousin*? No matter who he was, he would not enjoy the experience of being interrogated.  
  
"Dominic!" He said excitedly. "How wonderful to see you!" Smiling falsely, he shook his cousin's hand with such vigour that the other boy, a little older than he, winced.  
  
"Draco, there's been such a horrible misunderstanding, you wouldn't believe it. Could we speak privately for a moment, please?" He asked politely, indicating the Headmaster and Professors McGonagall and Snape. His request was met reluctantly.  
  
"Don't start talking yet," Draco warned, pulling out his wand. "I'll cast a silencing spell." In reality, he set a recorder on his wand so he could replay the conversation for Professor Dumbledore. "All right, you may begin."  
  
The upset and self-righteous look was replaced instantly by one of excitement. "I was doing the initiation for the Death Eaters," he explained. "I was supposed to capture the redhead, but no one said I couldn't have a little fun first. Damn it, the girl's gorgeous!"  
  
"She's also taken," he said flatly.  
  
"Oh, is she? Lucky bastard, whoever's got her. Anyway, the little bitch stunned me before I could get any."  
  
"She's just a muggle-lover," Draco said, hating the word's taste in his mouth. "What did the Dark Lord want with her?" He put special disdain on "her" so Dominic wouldn't suspect anything.  
  
He smiled patronisingly. "You wouldn't know, would you? Well, there's a special prophesy about how King Arthur is going to return and help England when it is in the most danger, and Master thinks she has something to do with it. You know, like she's got some special magic and is part of the trio." His companion struggled to seem pleasantly surprised while fighting off the urge to become pale and shocked.  
  
"What trio? Unless Arthur had multiple personalities, there was only one of him," he managed.  
  
"That part is actually a bit nonsensical," Dominic admitted. "Supposedly the greatest people of the time were Morgan le Fay, King Arthur, and Sir Lancelot du Lake, so their talents all came back sometime in September to three people in this school. Master thinks the little redhead's got Morgan's power. If Morgan was seductive, the girl's definitely got it."  
  
It had taken a lot of control not to correct him about Morgana, but he stayed blandly interested. "What about Merlin?" He asked. "Wasn't he one of the greatest of the time?"  
  
"Oh, him. He really wasn't as powerful as le Fay, he just made more noise about it. Master thinks Weasley-- that's her name, isn't it? -- has unbelievable power to use, and she'll definitely be fighting on Dumbledore's side."  
  
"I'll keep my eye on her," Draco promised.  
  
Still acting superior, his cousing shrugged the vow off. "Don't bother. We already have someone watching her and Potter. Sorry, I can't tell you," he added, seeing the questioning look he was receiving. "I know you'd like to help him, but there's this silence policy... I'm sure you'll be told when you've been initiated."  
  
"That's all right, I wouldn't want to jeopardize the cause," Draco assured him. If I supported the cause, he added mentally.  
  
"Tell me more about Weasley," Dominic ordered. "The girl, not her family. Has she always been that hot?"  
  
"It was sort of an overnight thing. Nobody really noticed her until this year, and then the guys were all over her. Even Potter," he spat, remembering the incidents with displeasure.  
  
"Potter? Is she going out with him?"  
  
"No. She's fought him a bunch of times because he tried to kiss her. He finally gave up when she started dating someone else."  
  
"D'you know the guy?" He asked hungrily, hoping for an affirmative. Connections were always good to use, especially if one of them had a gorgeous girlfriend.  
  
Draco shrugged, giving a half-truthful answer. "Pretty well. He's almost infatuated with her. Thinks about her all the time."  
  
"Well? Has he said she's good in bed?" Dominic finally inquired. "I want to know what I'm missing."  
  
He started. "I actually don't know," he said delicately. "She won't let anyone find out."  
  
"How well d'you know him, anyway?" He asked as Draco headed for the door, about to switch off the recording spell.  
  
Leaving his parting shot unrecorded would be a crime to humanity. "Really well. See, that was *my* girl you tried to fool around with, so I don't think you'll be able to do that for a long, long time. Enjoy your stay at Azkaban, *cousin*." 


	25. I'll Be There

Legend Chapter XXV: I'll Be There by Marie McKinnon  
  
Worn out, both emotionally and physically, Draco plopped down onto his bed. He let out a sigh of relief at being back in his room, away from the people and situations that frustrated him. A moment later he leapt back to an attentive position, noticing a movement in the shadowy corner. He focused hard on it, and could discern a darker shadow in the centre that looked suspiciously like a cloaked person.  
  
His suspicions were confirmed when Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the corner and seated himself disdainfully in Draco's desk chair. "What, no hug for your father?" He scoffed.  
  
"I haven't hugged you since I was three," he replied coolly. "I've thought better of it, if you will. It brings to mind that phrase -- what is it-- I embrace my enemy, but only to smother him."  
  
Lucius smiled in spite of himself. "I have taught you well, then. There is the small matter of your joining the Death Eaters that must be resolved before too long, however."  
  
He shook himself mentally, remembering that there had been no letter on the table when he'd come in. "Don't worry, Father. I've already made the decision." He tried to look as excited about the prospect as he was sure his father had.  
  
"Oh, then seeing Dominic helped?"  
  
"In a way," Draco said, smiling deceptively. "I saw him on the occasion that he had murdered my girlfriend's roommates and attempted to rape her."  
  
"All to aid Lord Voldemort," he said, as though that were all that really mattered. "I'll take you to meet with Him soon, so you can get your Dark Mark."  
  
"May I finish? Thank you. Seeing Dominic persuaded me to oppose the cause rather than support it. After all, he murdered and spoke lightly about it, and regretted that he hadn't finished with Ginny. Perhaps it was just that he had been trying to take advantage of *my* girl, but that's not likely."  
  
Lucius' face contorted in fury. "What did you do to Dominic?" He demanded.  
  
"I had the whole conversation recorded, so I gave it to Professor Dumbledore. Dominic should be arriving at Azkaban sometime soon," he added, completely without remorse.  
  
"You jackass!"  
  
An expression of mock-concern found its way onto Draco's face. "I wouldn't say that if I were you, Father. A jackass's, or a mule's, mother is a horse and its father is an ass. Which I think is quite an accurate description right now, don't you?"  
  
Glaring venomously, his father swept out of the room, leaving him vindictively happy and, for the first time in ten months, without a letter to burn. He decided to write his own letter in exchange for the one he usually received, this time directing it to Ginny.  
  
Gin, (he wrote, pondering whether or not it would be more appropriate to write to her as 'Love' or 'Darling')  
  
I hope this finds you as well as can be expected. Go sit with Granger, I imagine she'll be able to take your mind off it somehow. She'll probably have you doing homework as soon as you set foot in the room. If it's any consolation, Dominic is in Azkaban, and will soon be more insane than he was before. I know that doesn't really help, but that's all we can do to him (legally, of course). I was in favor of wringing his neck and Professor Dumbledore disagreed for some reason. Can you imagine why that might be?  
  
Really, though, if you need anything, you can just send an owl. I want to help you. I have to help, actually, because I am unfortunately related to the psychopath who did this to you. It's not my fault, but I'll make it up to you as if it were. Call on me for anything, I mean it. I'd love to help you, even if it's just transferring your trunk and other belongings to the seventh year dormitories. Remember,  
  
Whenever you call me I'll be there Whenever you want me I'll be there Whenever you need me I'll be there I'll be around  
  
Yours, Draco.  
  
He had paused, quill hovering over the parchment, on the signature. Should he try to tell her he loved her, or should he wait for a more opportune time? The second seemed to be more comfortable for him, so he gave her a gentle reminder that he was hers. Thinking of that song had put him in more of a sentimental mood than usual, he found, and suddenly made him wish he could play some of that popular 1960s music that always was supposed to cheer you up.  
  
Unluckily for him, any Muggle music player would go on the fritz at such a magical place, so he couldn't play it. In spite of all that he had a radio player that he'd left unplugged for a few months and had always promised himself that he'd find some way to work. Finally finding something to do, he summoned it onto the bed and looked at the part he'd learned gave it its power. There was a place for batteries as well as a plug, giving him a bit of a headache trying to think of which he should fix. It soon became evident that the batteries would be the easiest to fix because he could replace them with a magical power source. Deeming it safer to use his normal magic, the kind that required a wand, he grabbed the polished instrument off of his night table and attempted to stick it in to replace the battery. It was much too long to fit, though, so his process was halted abruptly. He knew no spell to transfigure a magical object into a power source, he determined after a long period of thought.  
  
Fingering his wand gently, he turned it over and over in his hands. What could this little bit of wood do for him? He wondered. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the other magic he had, but it was more discreet. Subtlety was its main use. He swished it, enjoying the whirring sound it made through the air. A trail of sparks landed between the places where the batteries' different ends were supposed to go, and he smiled triumphantly. One repetition of the process and tunes were blaring out into the room.  
  
He turned down the volume to avoid suspicion, then lay back on his bed and shut his eyes in pleasure. The music washed over him, its somewhat gentle melodies lulling him into a doze. A loud chorus brought him out of the stupor like a shot.  
  
"I think I love you So what am I so afraid of? Afraid that I'm not sure of A love there is no cure for."  
  
"You said it, buddy," he murmured.  
  
*  
  
Ginny woke up the next morning, looked around, and shut her eyes to prevent herself from feeling dizzy. Everything was in the wrong place, especially Ingrid and Frances. When had they moved their beds? Those names triggered her memory and she sighed, realizing that she was in the seventh year dormitories with Lavender and Parvati. Hermione, as a Prefect, had her own separate bedroom so she could work more easily. Heaving herself up out of bed, she grabbed some clean clothes and headed towards the showers, thinking about trying to drown herself. It wasn't really a serious thought; she knew she had to help Draco and Harry, after all, and she wasn't about to let them down. Still, her best (and almost only) friends were dead, and it was her fault.  
  
Toweling her hair dry, she bent over her new bed and looked askance at the parchment lying on its rumpled surface. The towel fell to the floor as she picked up the parchment and peered at it from all possible angles, looking for a name or symbol that would reveal the sender's identity. Really, she thought, I shouldn't be getting anonymous love notes, everyone already knows I have a boyfriend. Her curiosity drove her onwards, and, unfolding it, she sighed. If it held more bad news she doubted that she would be sane for very much longer. Thankfully, she knew the penmanship from its round, perfect letters, and read it all the way through, laughing at Dumbledore's aversion to strangling.  
  
Smoothing out the creases, she set it down on the night table, pondering the definition of a suitable response to such a statement. A live conversation would be wonderful, except that she didn't know where to find Draco at such an early hour.  
  
~Draco?~ She probed, trying to see if he was awake. He was, and had some song lyrics running through his head.  
  
"I think I love you So what am I so afraid of? Afraid that I'm not sure of A love there is no cure for."  
  
~Thinking of me?~ Her voice was teasing, concealing her hope that he was.  
  
~All the time,~ he quipped, grinning in spite of himself. Thinking of her did that to him for some reason. ~Did you get my letter?~  
  
~I wouldn't disturb your precious beauty sleep for anything else. I know how grouchy you can be.~ She chuckled, then continued. ~Thanks. You know I appreciate it. I may occasionally be very cranky; I can't stand ditzes, and I'm afraid I'll be living with two of them for the remaining two weeks of school.~  
  
~You'd probably be cranky anyway,~ he responded. ~Exams've already started, after all.~  
  
She rolled her eyes. ~You'd be annoyed, too, if Snape breathed down your neck every time you stirred your potion. He thinks I'm keeping you under some sort of spell, the fruit bat."  
  
~Fruit bat?~ His voice was amused. ~Did you just call Professor Snape a fruit bat?~  
  
~Yes, I did. Find it laughable?~  
  
~Very much so,~ he responded, knowing that her expression would have made him laugh even harder. ~He was right about one thing, though. I'm under your spell, and I don't think it's a spell I want to break.~  
  
Even Ginny, who had a reply for everything, was speechless. ~Shall I take that as a compliment?~ She finally asked.  
  
~Absolutely,~ he returned with conviction. ~I'm going to sing, so beware.~  
  
He sang outside of his mind, but the words, tune, and his voice singing them were in his mind. Ginny found herself listening to an audio tape of Draco's rich, strong voice belting out the lead of a song that seemed to be called 'Cherish.'  
  
"Cherish is a word I use to describe All the feelings that I have biding here for you inside.  
  
I would say I need you, but then you'd realize That I want you, just like a thousand other guys Who say they love you with all the rest of their lives When all they wanted was to touch your face, your hand, and gaze into your eyes.  
  
You don't know how many times I wished that I had told you You don't know how many times I wished that I could hold you You don't know how many times I wished that I could Mold you into someone who could cherish me as much as I cherish you."  
  
His message fell around her in a never-ending swirl of music, ringing in her ears and imprinting itself in her memory. She smiled rapturously, contained in a crescendo of song. Its melody cocooned her. Her spirits rose with the song as it became even more heart-breakingly beautiful than it had been before, enhanced with harmonies and a chorus.  
  
~Wow,~ she said once he'd finished. ~I didn't know you could sing.~ Sing was an understatement, as far as she was concerned. He didn't just sing, he poured out a torrent of perfect notes that strung themselves together into an amazing concerto.  
  
~Thanks, I think,~ he returned, apparently out of breath. ~I don't do it very often, but I just got my radio to work, and the music is great.~  
  
A bemused note crept into Ginny's voice. ~Radio? I'm afraid that little lie won't work with me. I know Muggle electrical devices don't work properly at Hogwarts.~  
  
~As I'm not using the electricity, it plays. I replaced the battery with a string of magic.~  
  
~Well, excuse me, your Highness,~ she laughed, mimicking his imperious tone of voice. ~I must not be as highly versed in engineering as you are.~  
  
~Obviously.~ He paused, thinking about a possibility, and added ~I'll bring the radio to practise this afternoon so we all can listen. In return, you have to sing something for me.~  
  
Ginny shuddered, but replied with confidence. ~You do that.~ It was all very well to say so, she thought, when she couldn't sing. Her voice broke off at the high notes, sounded ridiculous at the low notes, and could hardly tell one from the other.  
  
*  
  
She took very slow steps to their practise that evening, exhausted by her unbearably boring History of Magic exam. It had been practically twenty pages, all filled to the brim with obscure statements and questions. Honestly, she thought, how did Professor Binns expect them to know how many siblings Bodrod the Bearded had had? Trudging along the corridor, she directed her thoughts towards her afternoon's dilemma. She couldn't sing for him, not when he had such a good voice. With luck, he'd have forgotten.  
  
Unfortunately, Ginny had no luck. "Ready for your solo, Aretha?" He chuckled, saluting her with Fear. A moment passed, and he was changing the angle at which Harry swung Excalibur, tuning the movement to a calculated slice instead of his usual wild thwack.  
  
A book about weapons lay open on the table. Swinging into the chair, she peered at it, puzzled. None of them needed a weapon of any sort. Unless, she thought, it was possible to forge a blade out of magic. Inspiration dawned. Tiny daggers, razor sharp, and formed of her power would be an unbelievable asset. She flipped to the section on daggers, riveted on the paragraph detailing the sharpening of the blade. Her eyes shaved line after line of light off of the luminescent block, honing it to a sharpness that would cut a hole in the morning mist.  
  
"Draco said you were going to sing," Harry laughed. "I tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn't listen. Wait till I'm out of the room, all right?"  
  
"Watch what you say," she croaked, voice rusty after her tremendous effort. "These things cut through everything. I tested them on magic, and the tip of the dagger shattered my strongest spell."  
  
"What song d'you want, Gin?" Her boyfriend asked once their only companion had escaped.  
  
A devious plan formed out of her desperation. "I know just the one. Turn on 'Classical Gas.'"  
  
Rhythm spilled into the room, bouncing off of the walls and whirling itself around the two students. No lyrics rang against the stone walls, and a half smile played around the edges of Ginny's mouth.  
  
"Some long introduction," he commented.  
  
Her smile became more pronounced. "You don't get it, do you? This is the song. There aren't any words."  
  
He grinned. "It'd be a pity to waste good music. C'mon, let's dance," he wheedled, holding out his hand. She took it gracefully, stepping into his hold with pleasure. There was no romance in the music, just excitement and energy. The dance mirrored that energy, whirling, jumping, and swaying so vivaciously that the furniture practically leapt out of the way.  
  
Dizzy and out of breath, they sat down, wide smiles plastered across their faces. He still held her hand, suddenly noticing the signet on her right hand. At her collarbone hung the pendant that she wore with so much pride and confidence.  
  
"Well," Ginny said finally, "that was fun. I'll see you tomorrow." She swung out, humming to herself.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, lost in wonderful reveries of dancing and beautiful redheads.  
  
*  
  
White parchment contrasted sharply with the dark wood of Draco's bureau. He stopped dead, not knowing what his father could possibly want now that his cause had been denounced. Annoyance more than bitterness welled up in his mind at the piece of paper, even though it wasn't the paper's fault that it had to carry words from such an unworthy writer.  
  
"Son," the paper read  
  
This is a formal notice of your removal from the register as "Draco Malfoy." All inheritances and arrangements for your future have been consolidated into one payment, which is being made to your Gringott's account. Yes, that's right. You no longer bear the name Malfoy, boy, find yourself a new name and a new life. We are not taking you back this summer, and we will not respond to you in any way. If you cross our paths, we will neither see nor hear you. Your infidelity to the name Malfoy has forced us to assure that you aren't burdened with it any more. Enjoy your new life, just don't make us part of it.  
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
He smiled with vindictive enjoyment, glad to have rid himself of that troublesome relation to the Death Eaters. Seconds later his gladness had made way for worry. What would he do for the summer? None of his "friends" would take him in after he told them he'd been disowned, especially not at the risk of displeasing Lucius Malfoy. He suddenly found himself envying Potter, who had a family to take him in, however much he hated his aunt and uncle. An idea tiptoed into his mind when he remembered that Potter lived with his godfather, not his aunt or uncle, and that he had always stayed with the Weasleys once he'd been allowed to escape his relatives. It was doubtful that they'd willingly take him in, no matter what he'd done for their daughter, but it was worth a try.  
  
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley: (he wrote)  
  
I am sure this request is a surprise to you. It was a surprise to me when I found that I would be unable to remain at Hogwarts this summer holiday. Unfortunately, I am also unable to return to Malfoy Manor. My father, whose family pride is almost all-consuming, disowned me earlier this year for allowing my cousin Dominic to be sent to Azkaban.  
  
The only explanation for this is that Dominic had been guilty of murder, an offense demanding such an imprisonment, and also of attempted rape. I would perhaps not have taken the trouble to have him sent to the authorities if it hadn't been for your daughter. As I believe you know, she and I have gotten on very well since the beginning of the spring. The murders Dominic committed were those of Ingrid and Frances, her roommates. She herself was the victim of his intentions, which shamed me into dispatching him immediately. Seeing someone like her, usually in such good control of herself, in a state of upset would soften anyone towards her predicament. Ingrid and Frances' deaths merely hardened my resolve to put the criminal to justice.  
  
I therefore hope that it will not be too inconvenient for me to stay with you this summer. Please be assured, if there were anyone else whose hospitality were extended towards me, I wouldn't trouble you. A vast majority of my school acquaintances withdrew their friendly offerings when they heard that I had been disowned, leaving you as my only option. Any other suggestions would be greatly appreciated, of course, thought the best service you could do me would be to allow me to accompany Ginny and Ron to your home this summer.  
  
Hopefully yours, Draco Malfoy  
  
P.S: If it is not too much trouble, do not inform Ron or Ginny of this communication between us. I would like the plans to remain secret until they have been confirmed.  
  
Blowing on the paper to dry the ink more quickly, Draco silently asked for forgiveness for his little lie. He hadn't asked to stay at Hogwarts, but he knew what the answer would be. Dumbledore would never let him be isolated like that, not even if the only option was to stay with the one of the other most powerful Hogwarts students. He folded the note with easy precision, whistling to his owl before he lost his nerve. Its rapidly beating wings became a blur, then a speck, in the distance as it carried his last hope to the people who were least likely to accept his proposition. 


	26. Cavalier

Chapter XXVI: Cavalier  
By Marie McKinnon  
  
It took several days for the Weasleys to answer his owl, owing, he supposed, to shock. After all, how many days a week did they get letters from their worst enemies' sons asking for help? Not many, he guessed.   
  
To while away the weary hours, he let his carefree mask drop away and began a full-scale investigation for the mole passing information to Voldemort. Before doing that, however, he had to let Ginny in on the goings on of his private meeting.  
  
They met in the library and quickly cast a shield that would prevent anyone from hearing them. "Silencieus!" Draco murmured, waving his wand in a circle to indicate the area he wanted to silence. "All right, then. I need your help to find someone who's telling the Dark Lord about us," he continued somberly.  
  
"How do you expect me to know who's betraying us?" She asked irritatedly. "I just know that someone did, and that to prevent your beheading we've got to hide everything from them before it's to late." Her crankiness, due to the late night studying commanded by exams, annoyed him to no end, but he waited patiently for a calmer, more sensible side to show its face. "It's probably someone whose parents are Death Eaters," she finally said.  
  
"Not Crabbe or Goyle," he said instantaneously. "They're too stupid to be trusted with something that serious. Avery and Lestrange have no way in, McNair doesn't have any children, Karkaroff's dead, Snape's spy for Dumbledore, so that just leaves-" He stopped abruptly.  
  
Ginny glared at him, obviously hoping for a bit of a clearer answer. "Would you care to inform me of your deduction?" She snapped.  
  
"Nott," he managed. "I thought he was trustworthy enough, for a Slytherin. But he's the only possible spy. Brilliant plan, too; I trusted him more than Crabbe or Goyle just because he was so much smarter and better to discuss things with. I certainly don't trust him anymore," he added bitterly.  
  
She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, really, but you can't suddenly shut up when he comes into the room. Be very, very careful about what you say, and speak only on the most benign topics. Classes, teachers, boredom, homework,-"  
  
"My lovely girlfriend," he interrupted, a tiny smile quirking the side of his mouth.  
  
"How dare you be cheating!" Ginny asked in mock-outrage. "I know I've been busy lately, but that doesn't mean you can go find some girl who's actually pretty!"  
  
His smile widened. "I'm really sorry, but this relationship can't go any farther. There's this gorgeous, almost supermodel girl who's in love with me, and I don't want to disappoint her."   
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Because I love her too," he whispered, looking her right in the eye. Ginny's face went blank with confusion as he scooted closer and closer, then abandoned his chair altogether and stood up. She rose cautiously, unsure of Draco's sanity, but was soon pulled into an embrace. "I love you, Ginny," he said, finally relieving himself of that information. Her look of shock became one of surprised excitement, soon undiscernable under his forceful kiss.   
  
He felt lighter than he had before, almost ready to float off of the floor. There, he thought triumphantly, Malfoys *are* capable of love. Seconds later he was kissing her fervently, trying to vent his emotion into an expression of exactly how much he loved her. Being that close to her hadn't been so sweet before, and she seemed to feel the same way.  
  
He loves me! He loves me! Her mind screamed, interspersed with several 'I love him!'s. She was crushed into him, rivulets of ice running down her back while he traced patterns on it with his long fingers. He kept the kiss relatively chaste, eager just to touch her soft skin and even softer mouth. His lips refused to separate from hers, as though they were glued together by some invisible, extra-strength paste.   
  
Draco knew he needed to breathe, but he didn't want to. He was addicted, he knew, to a certain redheaded sprite--*his* redheaded sprite, he corrected happily. They broke apart reluctantly, still trying to get one last taste.  
  
"You know something?" She asked once she'd calmed down sufficiently to speak. "I love you too."   
  
The look on his face was worth everything she had. It positively shone with happiness, eyes sparkling, and a wide, perfect grin plastered onto it. He slowly managed to get his excitement under wraps, but his eyes danced exuberantly no matter what he was saying.  
  
"I think I've got quite a few new things to talk about," he laughed, grabbing her hand.  
  
*  
  
Draco was still floating on air by the time he got to his room. To add to his euphoria, a letter lay on his bed, making a sharp contrast against the dark green coverlet. With trembling fingers he picked it up, hoping and praying that it would be an acceptance of his request. He slit the seal and read hungrily, seated on his bed. A backwards flop punctuated his relief at their response. He could stay with them--with Ginny--all summer, as long as he behaved himself and didn't say anything remotely superior.   
  
There was a knock on his door, and he bolted upright. It was probably Nott, he thought, coming to try and get some more information out of him.  
  
"Come in," he called politely, not wanting to seem suspicious of anyone.  
  
Pansy Parkinson, scantily clad as always, sidled into the room. "I've missed you, Drakie," she simpered. "You never want to play with me anymore." She put special emphasis on "play," making her meaning evident. Seating herself on his bed, she leaned over him to coo "Please? I can make it worth your while." Every sentence was loaded with suggestion, and her tiny sleeveless shirt slid down dangerously far. She bent over him, revealing rather more than was appropriate, and began to undo the knot of Draco's school tie.   
  
Mind clear, he knocked her fingers away from the neck of his shirt. "No, thank you."  
  
"You can't possibly be-" she tilted her head and let out the word throatily "- satisfied with that Gryffindor. Your room is so quiet at night. She can't be all she's supposed to be, if she can't get noise out of you."  
  
"I wouldn't know."  
  
Her impatient fingers wove into his silvery hair as she purred "Poor Drakie has really been neglected lately. How about he lets his Pansy make it all better?"  
  
"I really couldn't impose," he insisted, smoothing his hair and giving her a quelling look. "I'm sure your-- services-- are required by others in the castle. You'll excuse me if I allow you to show yourself out."  
  
Pansy lingered sulkily by the doorway, pouting. "You've been dismissed, Parkinson," he said coldly, expression as icy as his voice.   
  
Her loud, shrill retort came through the door a few moments later. "You'll regret it when you realize your mistake, Draco Malfoy!"  
  
Draco put down the letter quickly and swung the door open, to see his former girlfriend still standing there. "I believe *you* are mistaken. I'm not Draco Malfoy any longer, nor are your petty pleasures required when I am sustained mentally, something your minuscule mind never quite managed. Goodbye, Parkinson." With that, he slammed the door in her face, a harsh smile contorting his features.  
  
Being reminded of his shunning from the Malfoy clan, he put himself to work thinking of a new name. Something that really meant something to him, but something that sounded pleasant with his unusual first name. Lancelot would be too obvious, but perhaps a French word, like Malfoy had originally been. It had fit them so well, but now that he had his enchantress, Dragon of Bad Faith didn't seem to fit.   
  
A wry smile brought his idea to light. He was a knight, and was not The Knight's Dragon a name ringing with the sarcasm and wit he wished to bring to his life?   
  
"Draco du Cavalier it is, then," he whispered into the half-dark, proud to finally have a name that fit.  
  
Disclaimer: I like that, don't you? Cavalier is "knight" in French, referring to the piece on a chess board. It fits better than "chevalier" because he's a piece in the game the Fates are playing with Voldemort and the rest of the wizards. I kill myself… No, no, I don't, I'm going to finish this. I own the somewhat unrecognizable plot, the library fluff, and the harlot Pansy, though she is rather commonly recognised to have a "night job." JKR, mighty sorceress of words that she is, owns the rest. 


	27. Spy Game

Legend Chapter XXVIII: Spy Game By Marie McKinnon  
  
For the few days before the end of term Ginny put her nose to the grindstone. Not to bring her marks up, which wasn't needed, but to manufacture a surplus of sheer magical blades. She sat at a roughly hewn table in their practise area, studying "Defenses of Style," a book that taught how to make weapons, especially swords and daggers. The razor sharp edge was manufactured, at least by Ginny, with strength of will and the shaving away of tiny particles. Every day without fail she could be found at the table, mentally suspending a solid block of glittering magic and honing it to a perfect edge. Her mind slipped into a trance of deep concentration when she envisioned the blade, perfectly balanced, slicing through a spell. She went into an even deeper level of concentration as she skillfully shaped it.  
  
"Hey, Ginny, d'you think I should--" Harry began to ask.  
  
His fencing tutor rolled his eyes. "She can't hear you, Potter. Don't even try."  
  
"What's she doing, anyway?" He demanded irritably, rubbed the wrong way by Draco's condescending tone of voice. "Oi, GIN--"  
  
His call was cut off by a silencing spell. "Ginny is making daggers of pure magic. Instead of shattering armor or other weapons, they shatter spells, and they're ruddy *dangerous,* not to be tampered with and whatnot, so distracting her whilst she has one of these things in her control is not a wise move. Understood?"  
  
Harry nodded, and the spell was removed. "Sorry."  
  
"Good. Now repeat that drill, you're leaning to one side like you're going to fall."  
  
*  
  
Ginny stayed away from the end-of-year feast. She didn't want to be reminded of her roommates, especially not by Dumbledore, who had provided little, if any, comfort during her times of trial. Nothing would get her into the Great Hall, not even Draco's wheedling. She loved him dearly, but there was nothing he could do to budge her. Right at the moment when she was sure Dumbledore would be toasting the fallen Gryffindors, her favorite Slytherin appeared with her on top of the Astronomy Tower to watch the sun slip under the horizon.  
  
"I thought I'd come see if you wanted company," he explained quietly as he rested his hands on the cold stone.  
  
Ginny lifted her head and smiled weakly. "Thank you. I didn't, really, but I'm glad you came." She seemed unusually pale, though there were healthy flushes of colour in her cheeks. Elbows propped on the wall, he studied her profile. The sun's rays blended with her hair, making it more vivid and brilliant than usual. Her smooth forehead faded into a slightly snubbed nose, which was held upward with great confidence. A pleasant mouth lay under the snub nose, rose pink and, as Draco knew very well, softer than anything. His arm slid around her waist and rested there comfortably. It fit perfectly, balanced between her ribcage and hips.  
  
"Your hair," he whispered into her ear.  
  
Ginny's eyes flicked open and shut several times before she felt awake enough to say something audible. "Mmm-hmm?"  
  
A strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and hung across her cheek, a lovely corkscrew curl out of place against her smooth skin. Draco gently brushed it back behind her ear, only to see it flutter out again.  
  
"Stubborn, aren't you?" He asked quietly. "We'll just have to do something about that." Instead of attempting to stick the resilient curl behind Ginny's ear, he untied her ponytail holder and watched the windswept curls tumble down. She finger combed it for a minute or so to make it light flat, then turned to her boyfriend. His eyes lit up at the frame her curls made around her face, a little wild, but also refined and elegant. "Why don't you ever let anyone see your hair down? It's beautiful."  
  
"Have you any idea," she asked, wrestling her long hair into a messy bun, "how difficult it is to deal with this tangle? Mum complains about it constantly, so I promised her I'd wear it down at my wedding. If I never get married, I hope she's happy."  
  
Amused, he smiled at her lopsidedly, trying to get over the mental block he had where marriage was concerned. "I get the hint. It's all about marriage, isn't it? That must be a major milestone in your family if you think of it like that."  
  
She nodded, staring out over the grounds. "You know, the sun's gone down, and everyone is going to start getting suspicious, especially since this is the Astronomy Tower." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"Let them be suspicious. I'm watching the stars with my girl."  
  
"Oh, the invisible one?" Ginny asked. "I'm going in. Even in summer it's too chilly up here for me."  
  
He stopped her by the stairs, grinning devilishly, and kissed her thoroughly. "Give them something to be suspicious about."  
  
"I'm sorry, I really can't do this now. I have to go think -- oh, hello, Thomas," she said pleasantly. "What brings you up here?" Still holding her loosely, Draco felt her muscles tense.  
  
"I wondered where my friend was, is all. You missed the end of the feast. We won, after Potter lost all those points for fighting." His smile seemed rather fixed, as though he were trying to seem pleased.  
  
Understanding that her presence wasn't needed, she slipped out between them, giving her boyfriend a parting wink. ~If he asks about me, tell him I've been severely unhinged by my friends' deaths. It'll put him off for a bit,~ she added mentally.  
  
Watching the bobbing head disappear down the spiral staircase, Nott moved on to another topic of conversation. "Is she all right?"  
  
"She's still very upset. It was an awful tragedy, and to be the one to find the bodies really frightened her. She won't be back to normal for a very long time, I don't think."  
  
"Oh." He stored the information away for later, then added "That's too bad. She was such an overpowering force that something seems to be missing, you know?"  
  
Looking bemused, Draco asked "How so?"  
  
Nott shrugged. "Personality-wise. You could always tell she was there. Curfew, though, we'd best get back."  
  
His companion nodded and descended rapidly, mind whirling with questions about the relevancy of their conversation and feeling as though he'd been lapped.  
  
*  
  
Cloaked, long black robes sighing on the wooden floor, a small figure walked deliberately to a shadowy throne. Skeletally thin, a man rose from the ebony throne, gleaming eyes penetrating the absolute darkness. He gestured to the steps leading to his elaborate seat.  
  
Removing his hood, the smaller figure knelt on the steps, head bowed. "Master," he breathed, "I bring information."  
  
"Speak." The voice was nearly a hiss, gliding out over the empty room.  
  
"Virginia Weasley is weak from emotion. She will be easy to break, especially with another death."  
  
"Excellent," Voldemort said, almost smiling. "I suggest a family member be the next victim. Perhaps the one working in the Ministry, to give it an added motive."  
  
Thomas shuffled out backwards, still hunched over in a humble bow. "Nott, from whom did you get such information?" The hiss was audible even from the other side of the room. Its high-pitched coldness sent prickles down his spine, but he responded.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, Master, Virginia Weasley's boyfriend."  
  
"Do not underestimate him, Nott," Voldemort advised. "He's as slippery as his father."  
  
With a reverent "Yes, Master," the disciple backed away and crumpled into an exhausted heap, completely drained by the powerful energy loose in his Lord's chambers. 


	28. On Holiday

Legend Chapter XXVIII: On Holiday By Marie McKinnon  
  
Ginny leapt lightly off of the school train, hopping out of the way for her trunk to land at her heels with a clatter. "Well, I suppose I'll see you in September," she said, releasing the handle of her trunk and flexing her hand. "Have a good holiday."  
  
"I certainly will. I'm coming with you," Draco told her.  
  
Had she still been holding her trunk upright, it would have fallen on her foot. She eyed him suspiciously, mistrust obvious in her expression. Her parents would never allow him to stay, she was positive, because their families were feuding. What cards could he have pulled to get them to agree?  
  
"If this is some complex prank, I refuse to be your victim. Go find Harry or Creevey."  
  
Mrs. Weasley, looking harried, bustled over and nodded at both students. "Ginny, Draco, come over here, we're using Floo to get home. Oh, it's 'The Burrow,' by the way," she added.  
  
"How did you ever get Mum and Dad to agree to let you stay?" She muttered, lugging her trunk behind her.  
  
He shrugged. "Once they realized I'd been disowned because I helped you, they were only too willing to do me a favor. I'm actually rather glad I'm not Malfoy any more. It means 'bad faith,' and I didn't like that insinuation." Bowing deeply, he added "May I present Draco du Cavalier, or just plain Draco Cavalier, milady?"  
  
A regal nod was his response, but her serious expression only lasted a moment before she burst out laughing. "What's that mean, then?"  
  
"All together, I'm 'the knight's dragon,'" he explained. "Thought it was clever, considering the new predicament I've managed to get myself into. The Burrow!"  
  
Still giggling, Ginny followed, appearing in the living room and dusting herself off vigorously. On looking up, she smothered even more giggles. Draco, who always was impeccably dressed and perfectly neat and clean, had black, powdery streaks of soot in his white-blond hair.  
  
"You have soot in your hair," they said in unison.  
  
Mrs. Weasley appeared a moment later, bearing a large clothes-brush. She saw that neither of the two teenagers had any trouble with their clothes, put away her clothes-brush, and sent them upstairs to the washroom. Walking upstairs behind Ginny, he looked around at the neat, tidy chambers, tasteful colour choices, and simple decorating schemes. Most of the rooms were an off-white, lit by magical light globes hovering near the ceiling, and had smooth wooden floors. Stone fireplaces and mantles gave way to comfortable-looking plush armchairs and a giant sofa, strewn with overstuffed pillows. It wasn't nearly as shabby as he would have expected, but he had thought without the aid of Fred and George, whose ideal job, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, had been an immediate success. Finally at the landing, he saw a washroom to his left, and stepped in to scrub his hands and hair. A white sink turned blackish immediately from the concealed soot embedded in his palms.  
  
"Gin, could I please have a-- thank you," he said, taking the comb she'd handed him without his having to ask.  
  
Pulling out a hairbrush, she smirked at him. "I'm surprised you don't keep one with you at all times." She coiled her long ringlets into a chignon at the base of her neck, securing it with several pins and a hair tie.  
  
"I only fix other people's hair. For example," he returned, turning her to face him, " you need to have a lock or two hanging in your eyes. That way it doesn't look so severe."  
  
"Thanks, I think."  
  
*  
  
After dinner, which had consisted of numerous sizzling sausages, thick slices of bread slathered with butter, and home-made ice cream, Mrs. Weasley drew Ginny aside. "It's lovely to have you home, dear," she began, looking nervous.  
  
"I'm glad to be home."  
  
She pulled a flattish box out of her robe pocket with a reverent smile. "I usually would have waited until you got married for this, but I'd like you to--"  
  
"Try on the necklace?" Ginny suggested, inwardly furious. How dare her own mum not trust her with something as important as that? A relieved nod confirmed her suspicion. "All right, then, may I have it, please?"  
  
"Of course," said Mrs. Weasley, hoping, fearing, and praying that her worries weren't about to be justified.  
  
Ginny heard the catch click and let her hands fall away from her neck. Looking down, she saw a strand of perfectly round, perfectly white pearls glistening softly against her skin. Her mum looked as though the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders and she sighed audibly.  
  
"Mum," she asked quietly, fingering the pearls, "do you trust me?"  
  
"Why, of course I do, dear. I'll always trust you."  
  
Unclasping the necklace and handing it back to her mum, Ginny said "But you made me try it on nonetheless. If you'd trusted me, you would have asked me and believed my answer instead of making it evident that you thought I'd be willing to lie." She was calm, unmovingly so, but the disquiet on her mother's face was the exact opposite.  
  
"I couldn't be sure," Mrs. Weasley tried to explain, "that *he* hadn't asked you to lie."  
  
"Why would he do that?"  
  
The famous Weasley temper had skipped over Ginny, but it seemed to have been embedded in Molly after she'd gotten married. "BECAUSE HE'S A BLOODY MALFOY!" She shouted. "THEY'RE ALL MANIPULATIVE B******S WITHOUT ANY CONCERN AT ALL FOR THE REST OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY!"  
  
Now visibly shaking with anger, Ginny had enough self-control to refrain from strangling her mother. Her fingers itched to release some of her magic and pin the furious witch to the wall, but she fought it down. She barely kept a hold on her anger, leaving a speechless mother in the room alone with only her words for comfort.  
  
"I think he heard you."  
  
*  
  
The atmosphere in the Weasley house was rather tense for the next few days. Ginny took every possible opportunity to escape from her mother's clutches and do her homework outside, usually accompanied by her knight in shining armor. Though she watched her mum unceasingly, waiting for a signal of repentance, Mrs. Weasley observed the pair. She found nothing wrong with Draco's behaviour; in fact, she saw slight courtesies in his attitude toward her daughter that were quite amusing. Almost absently, he held doors open for her, pulled her chair out from under the dinner table for her before seating himself, and waited until she had put herself at ease in one of the plush armchairs to do so.  
  
There was nothing in their manners that revealed anything more than a fresh, light affection, sometimes nearer devotion or tenderness. It was obvious from the way his arm seemed to have been made to rest comfortably around her waist, the way it did so with such ease, and the softness with which they regarded each other. To put it simply, they just fit together perfectly, laughs blending in a joyous harmony at some wayward jest or comment.  
  
Molly could find nothing wrong with their relationship, hard as she tried, and that frustrated her to no end. "She's hiding something from me, I know it," she complained to Arthur one evening when all the children had gone to sleep.  
  
"If she is, she's hiding it very well. You know she's not been doing anything out of line with Draco, her marks were very high, she looks happy and healthy, and she seems to have sprung back amazingly quickly from poor Ingrid and Frances' deaths. There isn't anything she would hide from us, because there's nothing unusual happening that has anything to do with her."  
  
How unbelievably wrong he was.  
  
*  
  
"I'm really getting sick of Mum," Ginny confided to Draco once they had gotten far enough away from the Burrow. "She's hated the Malfoys for years because they said anyone who wasn't pure-blood was inferior. In all, she loathed their prejudices, but now she's become prejudiced against them just because they're Malfoys. It's ridiculous, and I can't let myself get angry at her. You know what would happen then."  
  
He watched her outburst slow down, then reminded her "It's not completely untrue. I didn't mind that she said that about the Malfoys, mostly because I'm technically not a Malfoy anymore. Had I been, however, she would have found herself in rather a nasty position," he chortled.  
  
"I need to practise the magic," she told him. "Can we get really far from the house so I can help you? You've given me a lot of help with the hand-to-hand combat, but I've done nothing for you in return, and I'm beginning to feel a bit guilty."  
  
"Lead away, Professor!"  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, JKs, so if I admit it, why sue me? It's not like you'd get much. 


End file.
